Fields of Green
by Frisco
Summary: An entry in the Ancient database about a research lab leads the team to Grala. But is everything as perfect as it appears? Spoilers through mid S3 and one minor one for Sunday. Watch out for whump. Appearances by all our players including SG1.
1. If It Seems Too Good to be True

**Chapter 1**

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard."

"We read you, Colonel. How are things on M1X-823?"

"Things are fine. In fact, they couldn't be better, which has me worried."

"I'm sorry?"

"I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. So far, the sun is shining, temperatures are mild, the people are incredibly friendly. Teyla has almost finished negotiations for some of the best food we've found yet. Rodney is buried in an Ancient lab, happily sifting through its database with full permission from the locals. The Wraith haven't shown up, and nobody has tried to kill us yet. It's too perfect."

He could hear Weir's soft laugh even as she tried to muffle it.

"Don't you think it's about time we caught a break, John?"

"I suppose so. Just seems too good to be true. Anyway, Rodney would like to stay for a little while longer. So if that's OK with you…."

"How much longer?"

"You know McKay. He wants to stay until he's finished which would probably be sometime next year. I was thinking by the end of the day. Maybe another four hours?"

"That's fine. I'll expect your return in four hours unless I hear from you."

"Thanks. Sheppard out."

As John disengaged the wormhole, the village could be clearly seen through the stargate. Strangely, the town was behind the stargate on this world. The pilot wondered if the people hadn't wanted to clear the forest that grew in front of the gate or if something else had been there long ago and the trees had simply overgrown it. Regardless, the jumper couldn't get through the gate because of the woods.

Needing to give McKay the new deadline, he started toward the lab but paused for a moment to study the trees. They reminded him of the redwoods of Northern California, straight as arrows and reaching to the sky. He could see stumps scattered throughout indicating some conservative logging had been done in the distant past. The tree line extended for miles in both directions, and the forest appeared as deep as it was wide.

He drew in a deep breath and looked around. It was as perfect as he had described to Elizabeth. The breeze blew gently, ruffling his hair while the sun warmed his face. He could hear children laughing in the distance and birds chirping in the forest. He rarely felt a sense of peace off-world, or on Atlantis for that matter. He closed his eyes for a second, absorbing the serenity. Releasing the breath, he turned toward the lab McKay had found.

The building that housed the lab stood several hundred yards to the left of the stargate. The years had not been kind, leaving it with a crumbling façade and a cracked foundation. He had ordered Ronon to stay with Rodney since the scientist could get so enamored with his work that he wouldn't notice if the walls collapsed around him. Dex was there to drag McKay to safety if necessary.

The village stood separate from the lab. It looked a bit like early 1900s Americana with its electric lights and horse-drawn carriages, or rather, what passed here for horses: large, durable creatures that looked like a buffalo had gotten too friendly with a deer. The buildings were sturdy, made of the same type of wood that grew around the stargate. Some structures were several stories high, but the majority were simple constructs made for families living above their shops. Planter boxes and street lamps completed the picture of a simple, peaceful town.

He found Ronon outside the Ancient edifice. Ever alert, the runner marked Sheppard's approach while continuing to swing a giggling child on each arm. Children had one of two reactions to the big Satedan; they either ran from or worshipped him. These two were obviously of the latter sort. Funnily enough, the feeling seemed to be reciprocated judging by the huge smile Ronon was sporting. Sheppard pondered momentarily what Dex had been like before becoming a runner. He caught the man's eye and grinned at him. Ronon rolled his eyes and gently set the kids down. They immediately attached themselves to his legs.

"So?"

"Weir's giving us another four hours. What exactly are you doing?"

"Making friends with the locals."

"Really?"

"It's either this or let them keep bugging McKay."

"Ah. Good choice. Think your arms will last another four hours?"

"Yeah, and I'd still have enough strength to kick your scrawny butt."

"My 'scrawny butt'? Where did you hear that phrase?"

Ronon folded his arms across his chest and gazed evenly at Sheppard. "Not telling."

"You realize that all of these Earth people are a bad influence on you, right?"

"You realize you're one of those Earth people, right?"

"Oh, yeah, well, um, hey Teyla, Ren Mikros."

Teyla Emmagan smiled her greeting at the two men as she approached with Mikros, leader of the Gralans. The Ancient database had listed M1X-823 as the location of a research lab. Upon their arrival, Teyla had recognized it as Grala, one of her father's favorite trading partners.

The world was the home of several thousand who lived in small villages on the main continent. Each village was governed by a Ren. The council of Ren met occasionally, but each was allowed to make decisions for the group as a whole in the meantime. A strange way of governing to Sheppard's mind, but it seemed to work for them. Since this village was nearest to the stargate, the Ren of it, Mikros currently, had the most influence regarding trade and was typically considered the leader of the council.

Ren Mikros was an average man, approximately as tall as John but much more round. He had a fringe of grey hair and deep laugh lines matched by twinkling green eyes. As Teyla and Mikros came near, John and Ronon moved to join them, the two children along for the ride.

"Ralnor, Vistry, let go at once. Stop bothering our guests," Mikros scolded.

The children released their grip and ran toward town, stopping to wave at Ronon before disappearing into one of the stores.

"My apologies, Specialist Dex."

"No need. They're just kids."

"Are you enjoying your visit to Grala thus far?

John smiled genuinely. "Indeed we are, Ren Mikros. Your world is beautiful. How are the negotiations coming?"

"We are finished, Colonel," Teyla answered, "and Ren Mikros has invited us to tour one of their leading farming communities. Has Dr. Weir given permission for a longer stay?"

"Yes, she gave us another four hours. We'd love to see your farming community, Ren Mikros, but I don't know if Rodney-"

"I have already radioed Dr. McKay," said Teyla, an amused glint in her eyes. "He insists that he cannot leave his research. Since I am already familiar with the Gralan farming techniques, I have volunteered to stay behind to assist him."

_Oh, she was good_. Ronon wasn't the only one being influenced apparently. A quick glance at the Satedan told John that revenge would be sweet.

"Really? Well, let me check on him, and then we'll go. I need to let him know that Dr. Weir has allowed us to extend our stay."

The Air Force colonel ducked into the building, followed by the others much to his chagrin. He had hoped to have a word with the physicist without an audience. He wound through the hallways, past dusty rooms and dead plants, until he located the lab.

"McKay?"

Rodney startled at the sound. "Ow! Is it really necessary to sneak up on me like that?"

John bit back a laugh as the scientist emerged from under a console. His upper body was covered in dust and dirt with streaks of sweat carving tiny muddy rivers down his face.

"What?" McKay demanded.

"Having fun?"

Rodney grinned. "Actually, I am. They've got some amazing information in here about ZPM and drone design and development. What did Weir say?"

"You've got another four hours."

"Four? That's the best you could do? That will barely scratch the surface. I need days if not weeks to study all of this."

"I'm sure if everything goes well, you can return another day. Maybe even bring a science team with you. Listen, I know Teyla mentioned the tour of the farming community. I wanted to see if you needed me here for anything. You know, activating systems, stuff like that."

John put on his most hopeful expression and willed McKay to take the hint. Rodney regarded him for a moment with raised eyebrows and a barely concealed smirk.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm good. Teyla's assistance is all I need."

Sheppard caught the gleeful look McKay exchanged with the Athosian. That sneaky little bastard had conspired with her. John hoped they both remembered that paybacks were hell. If they didn't, they were going to find out.

He pasted on a smile and faced Mikros. "Well, that's taken care of. Lead the way, sir."

Sheppard and Ronon trailed after the Gralan leader. Small talk was not exactly at the top of John's skill set, but he did what he could. Mikros was an affable fellow, a bit older and much more mellow than either of the Lanteans, but he had a big laugh and a great love for his people and his world. The Gralans seemed to have a deep respect and admiration for him, calling to him as he led John and Ronon through town.

"Teyla mentioned that her father used to trade here."

"Indeed, Colonel Sheppard. Turghan of Athos was a valued trading partner and a good friend. I see much of him in Teyla."

"What was he like?"

"Turghan was a good man. He believed in fair trade and strong alliances. His word was stronger than any contract could ever be, and he was unswervingly loyal. We were devastated to learn of the culling that took him several years ago and again when news of the decimation of Athos reached us. We feared they had all been lost."

Ronon gave the man a casual glance. "Why didn't you keep trading with the Athosians after Turghan died?"

Mikros grimaced. "We suffered our own culling. It took many years to rebuild and replant our crops. I'm sure Athos was in a similar state."

Ronon nodded. "Many worlds have suffered such a fate at the hands of the Wraith."

"Indeed, Specialist Dex. Teyla tells me you are Satedan."

"That's right."

"Sateda was another highly valued trading partner of ours. Much of our technology was developed with the help of your scientists and engineers."

"Sateda traded with many worlds. I'm not familiar with yours."

Mikros laughed. "Oh, I'm not surprised. I doubt Sateda viewed us the same way. With the advances your people helped bring about many years ago, we became a major food producer, but I'm sure a soldier such as you would have little to do with that. We were greatly grieved when we heard of Sateda's destruction. It pleases me to hear that some of your people survived."

As they reached the northern edge of town, buildings became sporadic until only a meadow covered in wildflowers remained. The three men continued at a leisurely pace as Mikros regaled them with stories of trade negotiations gone bad. John laughed along with him, sharing some of the Lanteans' failed agreements.

After about a half hour walk, a large fence brought an abrupt end to the large meadow they had been crossing. Through the fence, John could see neat rows of vegetation growing. Some plants were large and bushy while others had stalks or shoots. Mikros angled to the right, toward the corner of the fence.

"As you will see, Colonel, we take great pride in our farming abilities. We grow the best produce and grain of any world that I have ever experienced. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I will find Nolar, the head of this community."

As the Gralan leader hurried off, John turned an eye back to the farmland. The fields were a verdant green and laden with fruits and vegetables. He had to admit that the food here was the best of any world they had visited. The lunch they had been served earlier was exquisite. John wasn't normally a big eater, allowing that honor to go to Ronon and Rodney, but he had eaten heartily today.

The Gralans weren't high tech, certainly by Atlantis standards, not even by Earth standards. What they did have seemed to be for farming. The tractor-like vehicles thundered like jet engines as they left the fields. Each had a tall cab with several harvesting mechanisms attached in front. Behind the cab was a large bin, similar to a dump truck, to hold the freshly picked crops. At the very back was a flat bed that carried workers and various farming implements.

Small black piping ran the length of each garden row. Every few feet the pipes had a small spout that vaguely resembled sprinkler heads. The fence was at least ten feet high and impossible to climb on or through, surrounding the plants on all sides. Two gates allowed entrance, the one in front of them and another wider gate for the machines. The gate nearest them stood open. John glanced at Ronon who looked bored out of his skull. Mikros was no where to be seen.

"What do you think all that black pipe is for? Irrigation?"

"How would I know? Do I look like a farmer?"

"Ooooo… channeling Rodney McKay today, are you?"

He chuckled as Ronon growl at him. "Mikros said most of their technology was developed with Satedan help. I thought maybe some of this might look familiar."

"I didn't spend much time in the fields."

The sound of child-like laughter reached John's ears. A closer look through the gate showed three small children playing underneath one of the large, bushy plants. They giggled again and waved at him.

He stepped through the opening onto black soil. As he breathed in the rich scent, he realized how long he'd been living in a city that floated on water. He wandered over to the hiding children and knelt down. Two boys and a girl, all around age five, peered up at him.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Shhhh. Don't tell anyone we're here. We'll get in trouble. We aren't supposed to be near the plants on Melrodin Day," the girl whispered.

"I see. What is Melrodin Day?"

"I don't know exactly. My father told me to never play in the planting fields on Melrodin Day, and that's today."

"Then maybe you should come out from under there."

"But I don't want to. We were having fun."

At the clomping sound behind him, he turned to find Ronon approaching. He knew how silently Dex could move, but the man could definitely make noise when he wanted. Sheppard glimpsed the wide eyes of the children as they stared at the big Satedan.

"I'm John, and this is Ronon. Now, if you'll just-"

"Colonel Sheppard!"

John leapt up, P-90 at ready, at the sound of panic in Mikros' voice.

"You must not be in the planting field! It is Melrodin Day. Hurry!"

Sheppard glanced at Ronon who shrugged as they started forward. The kids darted out from under the plant and raced from the garden.

"I'm sorry, Ren Mikros; we didn't mean any harm. We-"

Before the pilot could utter another word, liquid began to spray from the black spouts, hitting him full in the face. Sputtering, he and Ronon ran out the gate. A bitter taste saturated John's mouth, and he grabbed his canteen with one hand while wiping his burning eyes with the other.

"Sheppard-"

Ronon gasped for breath and staggered, then dropped to his knees, clutching at his throat before sinking limply to the ground. Red splotches covered his face, and John could see his lips swelling and turning blue.

"Ronon!"

--------------------

_tbc_


	2. I Wanna Go Home

**Chapter 2**

"Ronon! What the hell?" Sheppard fumbled through the supplies in his vest. After Lorne's team discovered that the plantlife on M3X-957 depressed the cardiovascular system, every team carried an EpiPen. John had never seen someone in anaphylactic shock before, but he recognized the symptoms. He jammed the pen in Ronon's outer thigh, releasing the epinephrine into his system.

"Come on, Big Guy. Breathe. You can do it."

The Satedan's eyes were clamped shut as he wheezed painfully. John tilted Ronon's chin toward the sky.

"Easy. Slow, deep breaths. Keep your head back. It will help open up your throat."

Dex nodded slightly and tried to control his panic. John clicked his radio.

"Teyla, this is Sheppard."

"This is Teyla."

"Ronon's in trouble. I need you to contact Atlantis and get Beckett here immediately. Tell him Ronon's had an allergic reaction to some kind of liquid, and I've injected him with the EpiPen."

"I understand, Colonel. I will do so immediately. Teyla out."

"Sheppard, this is McKay. How's he doing?"

"He's struggling to breathe. His lips are still blue."

"He's not improving?"

"Not yet."

"EpiPens carry a dosage for an average person. He is definitely not average so he may need another dose. Do you have another pen?"

"I don't. Let me see if Ronon has one."

John searched frantically through the pockets of Ronon's overcoat. He found four knives, two throwing spikes and a garrote but no EpiPen.

"He doesn't have one, Rodney."

"Where are you?"

"We are a couple of miles north of town. It took us about half an hour to get here, but we took the scenic route."

"Raise his feet and make sure his airway stays open. I'm on my way. McKay out."

"Help's coming, Chewie. Hang on."

John looked up to find Mikros and several other people, including the three now-crying children, staring at them in horror.

"Do you have a small box or something to put under his feet?"

One of the women nodded and ran toward a building resembling a barn.

John glared at Mikros. "What the hell just happened?"

The older man was apoplectic. "My sincerest apologies, Colonel Sheppard. I have never seen such a reaction. I should have warned you about the melrodin before leaving you."

"Yes, you damn well should have. What is it?"

"Melrodin is the chemical we spray on our crops to rid them of pestilence and to increase size and taste. We treat our fields twice a season, at the first sign of growth and now, just before harvest."

"Is it poisonous?"

"Yes, if ingested. Our produce goes through a complicated cleansing process before it is sold or served. No one has ever reacted this way before. I do not understand why Specialist Dex would suffer so."

The woman returned with a small crate that John placed under the Satedan's feet. After a minute, Ronon's breathing eased a bit, and Sheppard heaved a sigh of relief.

"He is having a severe allergic reaction to it, Ren Mikros. There's no way to predict it would happen, but you should have told us you were dusting crops today."

"'Dusting' crops? I don't understand that term."

"It's what we call it back home when, oh, never mind. Look, we need to get him back to the stargate. Can you spare one of your tractors?"

"Tractors?"

"The machines you use in your fields."

"Of course, Colonel. We can use one of our harvesters."

Mikros sent two of the men standing with him to make the arrangements, while the rest headed to the barn area.

Sheppard opened his canteen and helped Ronon take a small sip. He then dampened a bandage and wiped the residue of the melrodin off the Satedan's face.

"How are you doing there?" he asked as he repeated the process for himself.

Ronon was pale and sweaty, and the red splotches were spreading. His breathing was easier, but the wheezing hadn't stopped and his lips were still tinged blue. He opened one eye and whispered, "Teyla is so going to owe me for this."

"Yeah. McKay too."

After a few minutes, a deep, rumbling sound could be heard. One of the Gralan tractor-type machines rolled into view. A man climbed down from the cab and joined Mikros who had been pacing in agitation.

"Can you stand?" John asked.

Ronon frowned in concentration and shook his head. "No."

Mikros and the other man approached. "May we help?"

Sheppard nodded his thanks. He hooked his arms around Ronon's chest while the other two men picked up his legs. John could feel the Satedan's heart pounding as they carried him to the flat bed of the machine. It took a bit of work, but the three men finally got Ronon situated on the back of the harvester. Mikros turned to John, contrition written all over his face.

"Colonel Sheppard, please allow me to apologize once again. We never intended any harm."

"I know you didn't, Ren Mikros. I'm not blaming you. Someone will be in contact, but right now, I need to get Ronon home."

"Of course, Colonel. Nolar will drive you back to town."

The man with Mikros nodded a greeting and hopped in the only seat of the vehicle. John climbed on the back near his teammate and held on as the Gralan restarted the machine and headed to town.

The harvester didn't travel quickly. After five minutes or so, Ronon's breathing began to hitch again. John could see him clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Easy there. It won't be long now. Teyla is bringing Beckett. Scottish ire will be raining down any minute."

John could tell Ronon was losing the battle to stay conscious, and the pilot felt panic blossom in his chest. After all the man had been through, Sheppard was not going to let him die, not like this. He just couldn't think of anything to help him.

John glanced up as the harvester began to slow down. He could see McKay running towards them, moving faster than Sheppard ever thought possible. He grabbed the Canadian's wrist and pulled him aboard as Nolar put the engine in gear and continued to town.

"How is… he?" McKay panted.

"His breathing is getting worse."

"Right. Let's see… if this… helps."

Rodney pulled an EpiPen from his jacket and plunged it into Ronon's thigh. The Satedan didn't flinch as the needle penetrated and released the medicine. Sheppard and McKay watched in silence as their teammate's breathing slowly began to calm and even out.

John scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "That was a little too close."

"I agree. Let's try not to do that again, shall we?"

"Let's not. I didn't know you could run that fast, McKay."

Rodney wiped the sweat from his face and slumped back. "Well, I try not to make a habit of it, but if you and Ronon keep this up I may have to actually start."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I have better things to do with my time. Great scientific discoveries are out there, waiting for me to find them. I'll leave the running to you two."

John pulled out his canteen and took a long drink. He was sweating as much if not more than McKay although he didn't feel overly warm. He glanced up at the sun. Maybe it was just adrenaline.

Rodney looked at him oddly. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you feel all right? Your face is flushed."

"I'm fine. Just a little keyed up from all the excitement."

"What exactly happened?"

"We were in the fields when some kind of pesticide was released. I'm not sure why Ronon reacted this way other than an obvious sensitivity to it. Although I can't quite figure out how he could have developed an allergy to something on a world he has never visited. Oh, of course…."

"Of course what?"

"The Satedans helped the Gralans with some technological advances. This spray they use must have been one of them. Ronon must be allergic to some compound the Satedans gave them."

"Or some compound the Satedans taught them to make. Did you bring a sample of it?"

Sheppard squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head to his chest. "I forgot. Way to go, John! I was so caught up in helping Ronon that I didn't think to get a sample for Beckett."

Dex began stirring and opened his eyes. John raised his head up and helped him take a sip of water.

"How is he?"

"I'm right here, McKay," Ronon mumbled.

"Oh, of course, you are. So, um, how are you?"

"Been better."

"Hmmm… color is improving although the hives are still there. You don't seem to be wheezing as much, although who could tell over this freight train. Any grayed vision, spots before your eyes, something like that?"

"No."

"The EpiPen seems to have done its job then."

Ronon peered at Rodney suspiciously. "Are you really this allergic to citrus?"

McKay looked insulted. "I'll have you know I swell up like a balloon if the rind merely touches my skin."

Sheppard scoffed. "McKay…."

"Well, it happened to my cousin, Gerald, once. He turned into one big welt after a drop of juice splashed on him. I'm certain that's what would happen to me."

John gaped at him incredulously. "Oh my…. You're not even really allergic, are you?"

"Allergies are hereditary. I'm sure that I am."

"I don't ever want to hear another word about lemons from you again."

Sheppard and McKay continued to snipe at each other the entire trip back to the village while keeping a discreet eye on Ronon. John was surprised to find sweat was still running down his face and back, soaking his shirt. His face itched, and his head was beginning to pound. God, he wanted off this rock. He knew things were too perfect. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. He started to take another drink from his canteen, only to find it empty.

"Hey, McKay, got any water left?"

Rodney looked at him in surprise. "Yours is gone already?"

"Yeah. I used some of it to clean that gunk off our faces earlier."

The scientists handed him a full canteen, and John began to guzzle it down.

"Take it easy there, Colonel. Are you sure you're OK?"

"Just ready to get out of here."

The town was in sight. Just a few more minutes to go. He was so restless he felt ready to leap out of his skin. Glancing down he saw Ronon was also drenched in sweat.

"Need a drink, Big Guy?"

Ronon bobbed his head.

"Help me sit him up, McKay."

Rodney got an arm underneath Dex's shoulders, lifting him up. Sheppard gripped the canteen but couldn't hold it steady enough for Ronon to drink. McKay shot him a concerned look.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. This damn machine is hitting every hole."

"That's a load of crap, and you know it."

"Not now, McKay. Here, you try. I'll support his head."

John handed the canteen to Rodney and moved behind Ronon to hold him up. He could feel tremors running through the big man's body while his hands twitched at his sides. Dex was worsening again. McKay didn't seem to have a problem steadying the canteen, and Ronon sighed in relief after taking a long drink.

As they reached the edge of town, a team of Marines, Teyla, and Dr. Beckett greeted them. Nolar began powering down the machine, and John hopped off to make room for Carson, letting McKay fill the doctor in on the details. A wave of dizziness greeted Sheppard as his feet touched the ground and his stomach rolled a bit. Who knew you needed sea legs to ride on the back of a harvester?

Teyla noticed the stumble. "John, are you feeling well?"

"Yes, I'm fine. The motion from riding on that machine has messed up my equilibrium. Thanks for getting Beckett here so quickly."

He called over one of the Marines. "Lieutenant, I need you to go back with Nolar here and get a sample of the liquid that caused this. It's called melrodin." He turned to the Gralan. "Nolar, would you please take Lt. Spellman back to your farm?"

"I would be honored to do so, Colonel Sheppard. I hope Specialist Dex will recover fully."

John gave a slight smile. "Me too, Nolar. Thanks. And Spellman? Double time it back here."

"Yes Sir!"

Carson had slapped on oxygen mask on Ronon's face and started an IV. Two of the Marines moved Ronon from the back of the harvester onto a stretcher. Spellman hopped on the roaring machine, and Nolar headed back.

"OK, gents, easy now. Let's get him home."

The Marines carried Ronon through town toward the stargate with the team and Beckett following. John assigned the fourth Marine to wait for Spellman. Carson cast a professional eye at Sheppard.

"And what's your story, Colonel?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't get cute with me. Your face is flushed, you are sweating profusely, your hands are twitching, and you haven't stopped moving since you got here. What's wrong with you, lad?"

"Just worried about Ronon. Is he going to be OK?"

"I don't know just yet. I can treat the anaphylaxis, but his other symptoms concern me. I need a sample of that liquid to know what we're facing. And don't think I didn't notice you changed the subject. Do you know if he ingested any of it?"

"Probably. It hit us in the face."

Beckett stopped to stare at him. "Us? Did you ingest some too then?"

"Yeah, I think so. But I'm not sick like he is."

"The hell you aren't. You just aren't allergic like he is. When we get back-"

"Doc!" shouted a Marine as they laid the stretcher on the ground.

Ronon was convulsing.

"We need to get him to the gate now!" cried Beckett.

"Teyla, dial the gate. You two, pick up that litter and run!" ordered Sheppard.

As one, they raced for the stargate. The vortex whooshed to life, and McKay entered his IDC while Carson contacted Atlantis by radio. They ran through the event horizon, emerging to find a med team waiting with a gurney. Beckett stopped long enough to inject Diazepam into the IV and headed to the infirmary, giving orders as he went.

John stalked around the gateroom. How much worse could this get? He wiped the sweat from his face and decided he really needed a shower. He turned to go to his quarters and ran straight into Elizabeth Weir.

"What happened?"

"We were in some fields when they began spraying their crops. Ronon had an allergic reaction to it. I left two Marines there to get a sample for Beckett."

"John, are you OK?"

"Yes. I just really need a shower right now. So I'm going to go to my quarters."

He handed his P-90 to Teyla and swung around to leave. He was dying of thirst again, and someone had driven a spike through his temple.

McKay gaped after his retreating form. "Seriously? You're going to your quarters? What about Ronon? You need to go to…."

John didn't acknowledge the words and kept walking. His nerves jittered, and he used every ounce of self-control he had not to break into a sprint. He exited the transporter and strode down one corridor and then another and another. _Where was he going?_ His breathing became labored, and the voices in his ear were agitating him. He turned off his radio and walked faster. He was all turned around. He had needed to do something. _What was it?_

He twisted and turned through various hallways. His quarters. That's where he was going. He froze and looked around in panic. _Where was he?_ He didn't recognize anything, and the corridor was completely deserted. His abdomen began cramping, and he felt a constriction in his chest. Oh, God, he was in trouble. He dropped to his knees as nausea took over, emptying his stomach of its contents. His back muscles began to spasm, and his breaths came in gasps. He crawled on his hands and knees to the wall and sagged against it. _What was he going to do?_

_His radio_.

He turned it on and opened a channel.

"Help me…."

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_tbc_


	3. Time Will Tell

**Chapter 3**

McKay's voice came back immediately. "Where the hell are you?"

"Dunno…. Hallway…. Help…me…. Can't…breathe..."

"Stay where you are, Colonel. Don't move. Do you hear me, Sheppard? Sheppard!"

"Hear…you…McKay. Can't…move…anyway."

"Talk to me, John."

"'Liz..beth?"

"Yes, John. Rodney and Radek are still trying to locate you on the sensors. We've been attempting to find you for half an hour. Tell me what's wrong."

"Can't…move…. Hard…to…breathe….S..s..sick." John leaned to his right as he began to retch again. He could barely hold his head up, and his legs were spasming now. Tears poured from eyes that burned and itched.

"Hang on, John. Help is coming. Rodney?"

"Just a…. Got him! Dr. Keller, this is McKay. Sheppard is on D level Section Twelve, near the East Pier entrance."

"On our way."

Elizabeth's soothing voice came back on. "Dr. Keller and a med team are on the way, John. John? Are you still there?"

"Still…here…."

"Stay with me, Colonel. How are you feeling?"

"Worse…than…when that…damn bug…was attached to… me…. Can't…control my…arms, legs… getting…harder…to breathe…. Head, chest…hurt…muscle…spasms…eyes…. What's …wrong…with me?"

"Rodney thinks it might be the chemical you were exposed to. Lt. Spellman returned a few minutes ago with a sample of it and a possible treatment. You know to go to the infirmary as soon as you return. Why didn't you?"

"Don't…remem…."

"John? John? Answer me!"

John felt unconsciousness hunting him. He fought its clutches as long as he could but lost. Darkness claimed him, and he slumped to the floor.

OoOoOoOoO

When Keller rounded the corner, she found the Air Force colonel unconscious and convulsing.

"Roll him on his side. Make sure his airway is open."

Two nurses ran to do her bidding as she grabbed the supplies she needed.

"Try to hold him still for a second."

An orderly braced John's back and straightened an arm. Keller quickly injected the diazepam. After a moment, the convulsions stopped.

"Let's get him on the gurney. On my count. One. Two. Three!"

The med team lifted Sheppard onto the gurney and sped through the corridors to the infirmary.

OoOoOoOoO

Weir and McKay arrived in the med area to find the medical staff frantically working on Sheppard. His shirt had been cut open and leads attached to his chest. The cardiac monitor showed a wildly fluctuating heartbeat while the ventilator breathed for him. IVs had been inserted in both arms, and muscle tremors racked his body as sweat dripped from him.

"At least Ronon was already stabilized when we injected him with the treatment. I have no idea how Colonel Sheppard will react. But nothing else is working. I don't think we have a choice, Jennifer."

"I agree, Carson. Ronon did respond to it. Perhaps Colonel Sheppard will as well. If we don't do something soon…."

"Mary, bring me a syringe of the Gralan remedy. I also need-"

The cardiac monitor shouted an alarm and then flatlined.

"Oh no you don't! Get the crash cart. Charge to two hundred."

The staff scurried to do Beckett's bidding while Keller performed chest compressions. Carson lubricated the paddles, rubbed them together and checked the readout. "Clear!"

Hands jerked away as the paddles connected with Sheppard's chest and his body arced in response. Nothing.

"Charge to three hundred."

The machine whined as the charge built.

"Clear!"

The pilot's body convulsed again as the electricity shot through it. This time a blip and then another showed on the monitor. The infirmary itself seemed to hold its breath as Sheppard's heart found its rhythm.

"Come on, Colonel. I know you have it in you, lad. Hang in there."

After a minute, the relief in the room was palpable. They had him back.

Rodney watched as Beckett injected a dose of the treatment into John's IV. McKay didn't realize he was holding his breath until spots began dancing before his eyes. He exhaled noisily and turned to see Elizabeth staring at her shoes, shoulders slumped. He knew exactly how she felt. They'd almost lost him. Again.

He found Teyla standing at his elbow. After they had come through the gate, she had followed Ronon to the infirmary. Rodney had been so shocked by Sheppard's exit that he'd hesitated, just for a moment. By the time he'd gotten to the hallway, the pilot was gone. McKay called him on the radio and had Zelenka try to detect him on the sensors. So many people were moving about that he was impossible to pin down. The two scientists began fine-tuning the sensors to locate his subcutaneous transmitter, but it took a bit of time. They had almost finished when Sheppard called for help.

McKay fell into a chair and rubbed his temples with the heel of his palms, closing his eyes to listen as the machines tracked Sheppard's heartbeat and breathed for him. The sounds from the medical personnel gradually decreased from panicked to anxious. Footsteps slowed, and orders quieted. The treatment must be helping. He felt movement and glanced up as Elizabeth and Teyla sat next to him.

"How's Ronon?"

Teyla shook her head. "He is not good, but he is improving. The Gralan medicine seems to be helping him. His convulsions ended several minutes ago, and his breathing has eased."

Weir looked pissed. "How the hell did this happen?"

Teyla looked as bewildered as Rodney felt. "I am unsure, Elizabeth. In all of the times I visited Grala as a child, nothing like this ever happened."

McKay shifted in his seat and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "All I know is they were standing in the fields during a farm tour when some kind of pesticide began spraying. It was an accident according to everything I've heard, but the stuff is poisonous. Sheppard said he thought he'd ingested some of it."

He bounced up and paced as he continued. "Ronon had an allergic reaction so we began treating him immediately. I knew something was wrong with Sheppard, but he was so focused on helping Ronon that I couldn't get a straight answer from him, the stubborn son of a bitch."

"Rodney, calm down. I take it someone is analyzing the sample Lt. Spellman brought back."

"Yes. Beckett has one of his people running tests on it with one of my top chemists, Dr. Geranto. Hopefully we'll find something useful."

Elizabeth stood as Carson came their way. "Well?"

"He's improved slightly, but not nearly as much as I'd hoped. His cardiovascular and respiratory systems are under an immense strain. The ventilator is keeping him alive for now."

"That's the best your voodoo can do? It's only been two hours since it happened! How can he have deteriorated so far in such a short amount of time?"

"From what I gathered from the two Marines who brought back the samples, the pesticide is highly toxic. Treatment is to be administered within an hour for any hope of recovery. I believe the epinephrine Ronon received is what made the difference for him."

"Why didn't someone mention a treatment while we were there?"

Beckett grimaced. "Don't we typically tout our advanced medicine during negotiations? Lt. Spellman said they were quite surprised when he asked if they had a remedy. Apparently it never occurred to the Gralans that we would need it."

"Carson, what are John's chances?"

"I can't even hazard a guess right now, Elizabeth. We are treating his symptoms, but we don't know how to purge the toxin from his system. It may have to metabolize which means some long days ahead for us all. The treatment did help a bit. The convulsions and muscle tremors have diminished. But, as you can hear, his heartbeat is still a bit irregular, and he can't breathe on his own."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"No, Rodney, not right now. Let us tend to him. You and Teyla need your regular post mission checks, and I need an extra blood sample from you both."

"Why?"

"You ate the food on that planet, Rodney. I want to make sure the melrodin, or whatever it's called, isn't in your system too."

OoOoOoOoO

Footsteps signaled Carson's return. Elizabeth, Rodney and Teyla immediately stood at the grim look on his face.

"Am I dying?"

Beckett rolled his eyes. "No, Rodney, you aren't dying. In fact, your blood shows no sign of the toxin at all. Neither does yours, Teyla. The Gralans must have some way of completely removing the melrodin from the food."

"Then why the long face, Carson?"

"Preliminary analysis on the sample has come back. Its chemical composition is similar to a pesticide used on Earth called pentachlorophenol."

"Do we have a remedy for that?"

"There is no remedy for it, Elizabeth, and even if there were, we have no guarantee it would work. It is similar but not the same. He does show classic signs of PCP poisoning though - sweating, muscle spasms, nausea, convulsions, mental confusion. We'll treat his symptoms, help him as much as we can by keeping him hydrated and monitoring his fever and heart. We have a few drugs that may counteract some of the effects…."

"That's it?"

"Yes, Rodney, that's it. Sometimes there is no miracle cure. We'll give it everything we've got, but only time will tell with this. If his body can process the toxin, he'll live. If not…."

"I see. Can we stay?"

"Yes, although I would prefer one at a time. I do have a limited amount of space here, you know. Oh, and Elizabeth, I'd also like to send a team back to Grala. Perhaps if we can study the manufacturing process of that remedy or the cleansing process of the food, we'll be able to develop something of our own."

"Done. Let me know what you need."

"I would like Dr. Geranto to go, if that's all right with you, Rodney. He was invaluable in the analysis."

"Yes, of course, Carson. I'll notify him immediately."

McKay stepped away to radio Geranto, and Beckett turned to recheck Sheppard. Teyla and Elizabeth shared a look. Now all they could do was wait.

OoOoOoOoO

Two days later, the scientists and doctors reported to the conference room to present their findings to Dr. Weir and the senior staff.

Dr. Geranto cleared his throat and began. "The Gralans aren't going to be able to help."

"Why won't they help?"

"Not _won't_, Dr. McKay. _Can't_. They didn't develop the melrodin or the crimlox."

"What the hell is crimlox, Geranto?"

"Crimlox is the treatment for melrodin exposure. Let me start from the beginning. The Gralans are an agrarian society as we know. They have never advanced very far technologically, most likely due to frequent Wraith cullings. Many other worlds have depended on Grala for food over the years since the climate is ideal for farming. According to some historical documents Dr. Wheelan discovered, the demand far exceeded the supply. Then, a new world came calling, only this world was much more advanced than Grala or any of their trading partners."

"Sateda," McKay supplied.

"Yes. They entered into an agreement with the Gralans to provide technology and science to increase the crop yield in exchange for first choice of the harvest. Everyone got what they wanted – the Satedans got the best produce, and the Gralans got technology and the ability to cultivate enough to meet the demands of the other worlds."

"Such as Athos."

"Exactly, Ms. Emmagan. Dr. Brown is still conducting experiments, but her initial analysis shows the melrodin is both a pesticide and a hormone. It protects the plants while increasing size, quality and quantity. Basically their crops are genetically enhanced. The problem is the Gralans don't have an understanding of how the technology works. They have crimlox and melrodin but nothing like penicillin. They can manufacture harvesting machines, but they can't adapt that information into creating personal vehicles. Their total focus is on agriculture, and they seem to have no interest in changing."

"Did you find any information on the development or design of the chemicals?" Weir asked.

"No. The Satedan scientists and engineers helped them develop manufacturing facilities for the harvesters and the melrodin disbursal system and provided them with the compounds to prepare melrodin and crimlox. The Gralans are running low on the elements for both."

"How low?"

"Judging from what I saw and based on my formula calculations, perhaps enough for another five years."

Weir's brows shot up. "Five years?"

"They have massive storage facilities for the raw chemicals. They use the melrodin sparingly, only twice a year. Maybe they started rationing after Sateda was destroyed. Regardless, they know how to mix the compounds, and that's it. The cleansing process, while complex, boils down to washing the crops thoroughly."

"A dead end."

"Like I said, they can't help us."

Weir searched the discouraged faces around the table. Two days, and they had nothing that would help John Sheppard. Teyla particularly appeared dejected.

"Thank you for all your hard work everyone. Teyla, can I have a word?"

The Athosian remained in her seat as the others departed. Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He stared at Elizabeth for a moment then turned and left.

"What's wrong, Teyla?"

"Besides the fact that we cannot find a way to help John?"

"Yes. You seem…pensive."

"I believe the Gralans intended to use us to attain the components for the melrodin."

"What makes you think that?"

"I have negotiated many trade agreements over the years. None have gone so smoothly, especially after I told of our medical capabilities just as Carson said."

"Did they mention a need for chemicals of this sort?"

"No, but in the light of recent information, I know of several portions of the agreement that could be construed in that way."

"We have not finalized the trade agreement with them. At this point, I'm not sure we ever will."

OoOoOoOoO

When Rodney arrived in the infirmary, he found Ronon sitting near Sheppard's bed. The former runner was still a bit pale, but the hives were gone, and his breathing had returned to normal.

"Are you supposed to be up?"

"Doc said I could sit here for a while."

"Well, don't pass out or anything because I'm not hauling your heavy ass back to that bed."

A corner of Ronon's mouth tipped upwards. "You couldn't if you tried, McKay. I'm going to talk to Sheppard about workouts for you. When he wakes up."

"Yeah, you do that, Chewie. Is he any better?"

Ronon glanced away as his jaw tightened. "No."

"God, Ronon, I don't know what else to do. My whole science team has been working on it, and Beckett's people have as well. We've just got nothing."

"He's holding his own, Rodney. Sheppard's as tough as they come."

"I know he is. But one day, his luck is going to run out. I'm afraid that day may be today."

McKay cast an eye over the machines monitoring his team leader. Pulse-ox was low, although improved since his last visit, and the fever was still raging. Heartbeat was too fast, blood pressure too high, still completely dependent on the ventilator. What bothered the scientist the most was the utter stillness. Other than the rise and fall of his chest, courtesy of the vent, the colonel didn't move. The motionlessness combined with his waxen features gave him the look of a corpse.

Beckett emerged from his office with a chart and a cup of coffee. "You look exhausted, Rodney."

"Well, you don't look the picture of health and vitality yourself, Carson."

"What are you doing here?"

"It's my shift to sit with Sheppard."

"Don't you think you ought to get some sleep?"

"I can sleep later."

"Rodney."

"I'm not leaving."

"Very well then. That means time for you to get back to your bed, Ronon."

"Doc-"

"Don't you 'Doc' me. You had a very close call yourself. I don't need another patient in critical condition."

Ronon scrutinized Beckett for a moment. McKay had been right; the man looked terrible. He decided to not add any more to the load the Scot was already carrying. "OK, Doc. Let me know if anything changes."

"Done. Now, off with you."

The Satedan eased himself into his bed as Rodney settled in the vacated chair. Dex could sense the fatigue pouring from the physicist. The little man was a lot tougher than he looked, although Ronon would probably never tell him so. Maybe he would talk to Sheppard about some workouts for McKay.

As the lights dimmed, Rodney shifted into a more comfortable position. He could feel sleep seducing him and decided to close his eyes for just a minute. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this tired.

Shrieking alarms jolted McKay back into awareness. Sheppard's cardiac monitor screamed tachycardia. Rodney scrambled out of the way as medical personnel ran in from every direction.

Dr. Donnelly, the night shift attending physician, issued orders for lidocaine as Rodney and Ronon observed from across the room. Moments after injecting the drug into one of the IVs, John's heartbeat slowed, not returning to normal, but at least no longer in fibrillation danger.

Ronon eased back into his bed as Donnelly checked Sheppard's vitals once more and made notes on his chart. McKay ran his hands through his hair and considered asking for a shot of the drug for himself as he reclaimed his chair.

"How is he?"

Her brow creased in a frown as she studied his chart and the machines. "He's actually improving, Dr. McKay, although I know that seems hard to believe right now. We were able to get his heart back in rhythm much quicker this time."

"So, he's going to live?"

"I hate to give you a promise when nothing is guaranteed, but if Colonel Sheppard is anywhere near the fighter that I've heard he is, I would expect him to pull through. You should get some rest, Dr. McKay."

She smiled at the snort he gave her and walked back to her office. Rodney returned to his chair, stretched his legs in front on him, and folded his arms across his chest, relaxing a bit at her words. After an hour of inactivity, the realm of slumber began singing to him again. He drifted off to the whoosh and hiss of the ventilator.

Sound penetrated McKay's consciousness, and he awoke to find several hours had passed. Carson had arrived and was doing a routine exam of Sheppard. Rodney stood and stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his neck and back as Beckett pressed the silver disk of his stethoscope to the colonel's chest. Apparently satisfied with what he heard, the doctor checked the colonel's pulse with one hand while making a couple of notes on the chart with the other.

Rodney was peering over Beckett's shoulder as the doctor tugged his penlight from his pocket and peeled back an eyelid to check the pilot's pupil reaction.

"Oh my God, Carson. What's wrong with his eyes?"

--------------

_tbc_


	4. You Never Walk Alone

**Chapter 4**

John had been floating in the twilight between awareness and unconsciousness for quite some time. Noises infiltrated occasionally - voices, beeping, a steady whoosh and hiss. Any time he neared wakefulness, the most incredible pain invaded. It was everywhere, in his head, chest, abdomen, legs, back. Almost immediately, relief would wash through his veins, and he would retreat back into the numbness. But the moments of clarity were coming more often and lasted longer.

This time, he felt a hand on his, gripping his fingers. He squeezed back and heard a gasp.

"John?"

_Teyla._

He swallowed thickly as he tried to make his voice work. His throat was so sore. _What happened?_ A memory danced just out of his reach. He concentrated until a face formed. _Ronon!_

His eyes flew open and found complete darkness. He heard Teyla's sharp intake of breath.

"Ron-"

"Hush, John. Do not try to speak. Let me get Dr. Beckett."

He turned his head toward her voice and tightened his grasp on her hand. He coughed as he tried again.

"Ronon?" he whispered.

"Ronon is fine, Colonel. I will return shortly with Dr. Beckett."

Sheppard fought to stay awake but lost the battle. He was asleep again by the time Carson arrived.

OoOoOoOoO

The strident tones of Rodney McKay woke him the next time.

"…every trading partner we've had and asked. No one knows where the Satedans currently are. We've found a couple on Belka and a few on Manaria, but they've all been merchants or soldiers. Not a farmer or scientist to be found."

Satedans? Why would McKay be looking for Satedans? _Ronon!_ Something had happened to Ronon. What was it?

He was surprised at the absence of light when he opened his eyes. John attempted to clear the cobwebs from his mind. Why would the infirmary be completely dark? Was there a power outage? No matter how valiant his efforts, he couldn't think clearly. Utter exhaustion overcame him, and sleep claimed him again.

OoOoOoOoO

The hand on his forehead was cold. He shifted underneath it and groaned, opening his eyes.

"Oh my God." She sounded horrified. "John?"

"Liz'beth?"

"Let me get Carson. I'll be right back."

All of the lights must have been off in the infirmary since it was pitch black. How strange. He listened to Weir's quick, unhesitating steps as she hurried to retrieve the physician. No one walked that surefooted in the infirmary in the dark, not even Ronon.

He reached a shaky hand to his face. No bandages over his eyes or around his head. He wiggled his fingers and succeeded in hitting his nose. Comprehension dawned. _Oh, God_….

The beeping near him sped up, and he realized it beat in synch with the pounding in his chest. Heart monitor. He moved his hand down to his chest to find cardiac leads attached. _What the hell had happened to him?_

"How are you feeling, lad?"

John startled at Carson's voice. He hadn't heard the man approach.

"I'm so sorry, son. I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that. Would you like an ice chip?"

John nodded and felt a hand on his face. He opened his mouth and sighed in relief as the coolness quenched his thirst.

"Better?"

"Yes. What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"A planet. A farm. Ronon." He shook his head, wincing at that pain, wanting to recollect. "He had a reaction. Is he OK?"

"Yes, Colonel, he's recovering nicely. Anything else?"

"You came, and we got him to the gate. Not much after that."

Carson gave Sheppard another ice chip as he explained. "You ingested some of the spray that caused Ronon's allergic reaction, and it made you very sick. Your body has been fighting the toxin for a week now. Your heart and lungs have had quite a time so expect to feel very weak. I believe you are past the worst of it. We'll start building up your strength, but you need to know it will be a slow process."

"And my eyes?"

John could tell from the immediate silence that the answer wouldn't be good. He struggled to stay awake, needing to know.

"Just tell me, Carson."

"Your eyes were affected by the spray, John. I'm not an expert on the eye so I can't tell you the extent of the damage or the prognosis. The SGC is sending one of their top ophthalmologists on the Daedalus. He should be here in a couple of weeks."

"Weeks? So long?"

"I know, Colonel, but it will give us time to get the rest of you well. Now, I can tell you're exhausted and maybe in a wee bit of pain?"

John smiled. His head felt like it was splitting open, and it took every bit of his strength to stay awake. He heard footsteps approaching and turned his head toward them.

"I heard Prince Charming is awake. How are…. Oh, I mean, um, so, how are you?" Rodney stammered.

Sheppard frowned at McKay's question. Why was he tripping over his words like that? He turned back in Beckett's direction.

"What aren't you telling me, Doc?"

"What do you mean?"

Evasion. _Damn_. He swiveled his head in Rodney's direction. "McKay?"

"Sheppard."

"Goddammit! Just tell me!" He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. What kind of scars must he have for this kind of reaction?

"John, please calm down."

"Then you tell me, Elizabeth. Why is everyone acting like I'm Frankenstein?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your initial reaction. McKay fumbling for words. Carson dodging questions. What's wrong with me?" He could hear the panic in his voice, but no amount of self-control could get rid of it. He felt Elizabeth's hand on his.

"Your eyes look…different."

"Different how?"

Carson cleared his throat. "You have extensive corneal scarring, Colonel. Have you ever seen anyone with severe cataracts?"

_Oh, no. Please, no_. Anything but his eyes. He couldn't function without his eyes, not as the head of military operations of Atlantis. They would send him back to Earth. He wouldn't have a place here. He could command without an arm or a leg, but not without his eyes.

When Carson had said damage, he hadn't really realized what that meant. He did now. He had seen people on Earth that had no medical care, especially in some of the poorer countries where he'd been stationed. One old man had massive cataracts. It was impossible to see his pupils or his irises, just a cloudy, milk-like covering on both eyes.

John snapped his eyelids closed and clenched his jaw, shaking with the effort to control his emotions. He drew in a deep breath.

"I think I'd like to get some sleep now."

"Of course, Colonel," Carson soothed. "Rodney, you can visit later."

Sheppard heard McKay and Carson leave. Weir's fingers still gripped his hand.

"I'd like to be alone, if you don't mind."

"Are you sure, John?"

He nodded, turning his face away from her voice. She released his hand and walked away. He felt the despair well up inside. He was going to lose everything.

OoOoOoOoO

Sheppard awoke several times over the next few days. The first few instances he forgot to not open his eyes, until someone would walk by and gasp. After that he kept them closed all the time. People came and went, but he was lousy company and didn't encourage them to stay.

He progressed from bland broth to hearty soup to solid food by the end of the first week. He caught on quickly to the art of eating without sight. Carson had warned him that they were going to get him walking in a few days. He was not looking forward to it.

He monitored the passing of time by the sounds of the infirmary. The stillness and silence signaled night and the return of one his team. He was typically so tired that he fell asleep before they arrived and woke after they left, but he knew they had been there.

This night he been dreaming about the quality time he had spent recently with Kolya. He jerked awake, gasping at the memory of the feeding. He heard movement to his left as someone approached his bed. He felt a delicate touch on his hand.

"Are you all right, John?"

He remembered to keep his eyes shut and nodded. "Bad dream." He shifted away from her, hoping she'd take the hint.

After a moment, he felt Teyla's hands on his face.

"Open your eyes, John."

"Leave me alone."

He tried to turn away, but she pulled his face back toward hers.

"Open your eyes."

"Why? I can't see you."

"But I can see you. Please, John."

He drew in a shaky breath and opened his eyes. Still total darkness.

"You told me when we went to rescue Ronon that you thought of us as your family. Has that changed?"

"No," was the hoarse reply.

"Then know that you are our family as well. I am unsure of the kind of family you had as a child. In my experience though, a family celebrates your victories and shares your pains. You are not alone. We will walk through this with you."

"They'll send me back to Earth, Teyla. I can't fly, and I certainly can't run military operations like this."

"All is not lost yet, John. Allow this doctor to examine you when he arrives. Between Earth medicine and Ancestor technology, surely there is a way to reverse this."

"It's a nice thought, Teyla, but I doubt it. I've seen ocular damage before. Some things just can't be fixed."

"Please do not give up hope."

He attempted a smile. "I'll try not to. And, Teyla, thanks. It's good to have family."

He heard Beckett approach. "Teyla, love, could you give me a minute with the colonel?"

"Of course, Dr. Beckett." He felt her hands move to his shoulders and her forehead gently touch his. "Goodnight, John."

John could hear her as she made her way from the infirmary.

"She's right, you know."

"Carson…."

"Don't give up, John. We aren't sure of the extent of the damage, remember? This may be completely reversible."

"You don't believe that any more than I do."

"That's where you're wrong, Colonel. I have seen more impossible things actually happen in the past two plus years than I could have ever imagined. This is the Pegasus Galaxy. Apparently anything can happen here and often does."

Sheppard did smile at that. After a quick check of vitals, Beckett bid him goodnight. _Maybe_….

OoOoOoOoO

John jerked awake, breathing heavily, the cardiac monitor broadcasting the hammering of his heart. He'd tried to convince Carson he didn't need it any more, but the Scot wanted to leave it on for a few more days. Damn nightmares.

As he calmed down, he became aware of a presence. He listened intently but couldn't pinpoint a location. That meant only one thing.

"Ronon?"

He heard a creak from a chair to his right as the Satedan leaned forward.

"Sheppard."

"Hey, Big Guy. How are you doing? Sorry I haven't been awake long enough to talk to you before now."

"No big deal. Doc says I'm good as new."

John could hear it in his voice, a sound he'd hoped to never hear again. The quiet pleading that he'd heard on that planet where the former runner had stuck a knife to his own throat to bargain for the lives of Sheppard and Teyla.

"What's wrong, Ronon?"

"I just told you I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me."

"Sheppard-"

John heard the crack in his voice, and he suddenly understood. Survivor's guilt.

"This isn't your fault, Ronon."

"If I hadn't-"

"What? If you hadn't what? Had an allergic reaction? You can't control that. And you don't know that the outcome would have been any different."

"If you had washed that stuff off instead of-"

"You think I'd trade your life for my eyes? Are you nuts?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Yes it is. If I had taken the time to wash my face and hands and rinse out my eyes, you'd be dead. Do you really think that's what I'd prefer? Would you, if our positions were reversed?"

"No."

"Then stop it. I made my choice, and I wouldn't change it, no matter what happens."

John felt something settle inside. He meant it. He'd been feeling supremely sorry for himself for the past week without thinking of the impact it would have on the others. That was going to stop right now. If saving Ronon's life meant losing his eyesight, then so be it.

"Can you do something for me, Chewie?"

"Name it."

"My aviator shades are in my quarters. Can you get them for me?"

"Be right back."

Sheppard heard the Satedan's long strides as he left the infirmary. Tomorrow they would see the old John Sheppard. He smiled to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

An hour later, McKay arrived to spell Ronon. He found Dex sprawled in the chair next to the colonel's bed, snoring softly. Rodney wondered why the lights were on around Sheppard's bed and decided it wasn't important. He gave a soft laugh at the sunglasses sitting on the rolling tray table next to the water glass and cd player.

He walked around the side of the bed, evaluating Sheppard for a moment. His color had returned to normal, and the tension lines were fading from his face. McKay blinked at a small pink scar that caught his attention until he realized what it was. The Wraith feeding mark. He knew he'd see three other pink scars crisscrossing it if he looked hard enough. Sheppard had never talked much about what had happened, and for once, Rodney hadn't pushed him. It was hard enough the first time. None of them wanted to relive it.

Taking advantage of the situation, McKay leaned in for a closer look and gaped in dismay. Five scars. He knew of three feedings and the gift of life. That left one unaccounted for. He closed his eyes and dropped his head as he rubbed the scar on his own arm. That could only mean the Wraith had fed on Sheppard four times.

Rodney slumped against the bed next to the pilot's. McKay had been stabbed once in the arm and screamed like a girl, giving away the precious secrets of Atlantis to Kolya. Sheppard had been fed on four times by a Wraith and had never backed down or begged for mercy.

Sheppard was special ops trained, and McKay knew intellectually that the comparison wasn't fair. But deep inside, Rodney was ashamed that he'd caved so easily.

He stretched out on his side on the unoccupied bed, facing the military commander and the runner. Two of the toughest people he'd ever met in his life. McKay understood what losing his sight would mean for the Air Force colonel. A quick trip back to Earth and forced retirement. There was no way in hell the physicist was going to let that happen. He would think of a way to fix this.

Rodney woke as something brushed his hand. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He watched as one of the night nurses checked Sheppard's vitals. She was good. The pilot never stirred as she noted his blood pressure and pulse, wiping his face with a damp cloth after adjusting the nasal cannula. With the light, McKay could see her lips moving. The thought of her talking to herself made him grin as his eyelids drooped closed, and sleep reclaimed him. He didn't see her turn his way with a smile or feel the small touch on his shoulder as she walked past him, lips still moving.

A clattering sound rang through the infirmary and yanked McKay from his dream. He opened his eyes to find an instrument tray on the floor, and a very embarrassed Beckett trying to pick everything up before anyone noticed. His gaze drifted to Sheppard, who had slept through it, and then to Ronon. The last tendrils of the dream solidified as he looked at the three men. _Of course!_ For a genius he could be a real idiot sometimes.

He sat straight up and grinned at Ronon. "Want to go for a ride?"

---------------

_tbc_


	5. Grasping at Straws

**Chapter 5**

McKay bounced on the balls of his feet in eager anticipation. "Well?"

Elizabeth felt a tiny tendril of hope begin to flower and dampened it to allow logic to resurface.

"How do you know anything is left but rubble? If I recall correctly, the last time you were there the Wraith were firing on the city from orbit."

"We monitored the Wraith activity while Carson removed the tracker from his back. Once the tracking device was removed and deactivated, the hive ship left. Sheppard docked with the Daedalus so Ronon could be moved to the infirmary, and then we went back and repaired the stargate."

Weir raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

McKay shifted uncomfortably. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me. Why would you risk your lives to repair the stargate on Sateda?"

Rodney's gaze flicked to Dex and back. "Sheppard wanted Ronon to have the option of going back if he ever wanted."

Understanding flashed in Weir's eyes as her mouth rounded into an O. McKay could see Ronon's shoulders slump further as he stared at his boots.

"It's the one place we haven't tried yet, Elizabeth."

"Is there any chance of this working?"

McKay paced in frustration. "What other options are there? We have turned over every rock in this galaxy. Wherever the Satedans are hiding, they are keeping it to themselves. Let's suppose for an instant that we do actually find them. What are the odds that we'll find a scientist among them? And if we do, that he actually worked on the Gralan project from several decades ago? And IF he did, that he remembers anything about it? And IF he does, that he has any documentation we can use?"

"Rodney! Sit down. I want to help John just as much as you do. I know what's at stake here."

The scientist dropped back into his chair. "Then what's the problem?"

"You know what conditions were like the last time you were there. I don't need any more casualities."

"Dr. Weir?"

Elizabeth looked at Ronon in surprise. It was rare for the man to initiate conversation with her.

"Yes?"

"I'll protect McKay. I know where to go. I born and raised in Sateda's capital, and Mel-, someone I knew worked at the main hospital. Any information we need will be there."

Weir was grateful at times for her negotiation background, and this was one of those times as she hid her astonishment at his words. She had learned more about the former runner in those few sentences than she had in the previous year and a half.

She nodded thoughtfully, considering his words. "Very well then. You two have a go. What else do you need?"

McKay rubbed his forehead. "Just Zelenka, my computer and a naqahdah generator. I don't know how long this will take, but it will probably be a while."

"Done. I'll have Lorne and a team on standby in case there's trouble. Be safe."

The two men practically ran out of her office. Hope began to flare again. Even if the Satedans didn't have a cure, perhaps Rodney could learn something of value. She notified Lorne of the plan so he could prep a team.

She put her head in her hands, massaging her temples. She was worried about Sheppard. He had been so withdrawn the past week. Not only was he the head of the military and her most trusted advisor, he was also her friend. Leaving Atlantis would be a devastating blow to him, as it would be to them all. She debated with herself on telling him Rodney's plan but decided he could use some good news. She pushed back from her desk and made her way to the infirmary.

The noise coming from the critical area caught her off-guard. It sounded like a party. She wandered in to find John Sheppard sitting upright in his hospital bed, aviator shades perched on his nose, watching football on a TV from the rec room. He had three Marines providing color commentary while a cafeteria worker, two nurses and Dr. Donnelly were glued to the set.

"…broke two tackles and hurdled a third for a fifty yard touchdown run! The Bruins are coming back, Colonel."

"Did my invitation get lost in the mail?"

Sheppard's face turned her direction, a happy smile plastered all over it. "Elizabeth! Come on over."

"What's going on?"

"Catching up on some college football. Dr. Donnelly here has been holding out on us. She has a friend at the SGC that sends last weekend's games on the weekly databurst."

"Holding out, my eye. It's not my fault if you boys think that girls don't like football." Donnelly tried to hold back a laugh but failed. "All right everyone, enough excitement for now. We can finish this later."

"You can't be serious! There's two minutes left in the third quarter."

"I'm very serious, Colonel. You need your rest. If you don't behave, I'll tell you who wins and ruin all the fun."

Elizabeth could see Sheppard was fading even as he protested. He was still so weak that he struggled to hold his head up. The crowd cleared as the doctor rolled the TV to an unused corner.

"Caitlyn, can I have five minutes with Colonel Sheppard?"

The red-head gave the pilot a quick glance. "Five minutes, no more."

Weir straightened a chair to face her military commander. "You look like you're feeling better."

He gave her a tired grin. "I am."

"I like the shades."

"You don't think they're a bit much with the blue scrubs? They look better with my leather jacket, but the doc didn't seem convinced when I told her that."

Elizabeth chuckled at the thought. "Maybe tomorrow. I wanted to let you know that Rodney has an idea."

Sheppard snorted. "When does McKay not have an idea?"

"John, he, Radek and Ronon are taking a trip to Sateda."

The grin faded from Sheppard's visage. "By themselves? Why?"

"Rodney thinks he might be able to find some information about the melrodin development. They are going to check the computers and archives left in the main hospital. He thinks that if they had any treatment for it, he will be able to find it."

"It's dangerous, Elizabeth. What if the Wraith come back? What if the building collapses? Most of them were rubble. What if-"

"John, I know the risks, and so do they. Lorne's team is ready to go at a moment's notice. Besides, I thought Rodney was the Naysayer of Doom."

Her attempt at humor fell flat. She had come to cheer him up, but the news had the opposite effect. She struggled to think of something to say to ease his concerns.

"I know you want to be there, protecting them. But this time you are going to have to let them take care of you."

"I don't do that very well."

"No, you don't. But I think you are going to get the opportunity to learn in the next few days."

Weir could feel the exhaustion emanating from him. She placed a hand on his arm and gave a gentle squeeze. "My five minutes is up. Get some sleep. I'll inform you the minute I hear from Rodney."

Sheppard reached out, searching for her hand. Weir grasped his fingers, and he tightened the grip. "Thanks, Elizabeth, for telling me."

She clasped his hand with both of hers. "You're welcome. I'll be back tomorrow."

As she left, John let his head fall back on his pillow, imagining three of his friends digging through rubble on a dead planet in an attempt to help him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as gratitude welled up inside. To think he almost hadn't come on this expedition.

He made another discovery. If he'd known then what he knew now, he'd still come. Even if they failed to find anything on Sateda, even if the doctor the SGC was sending couldn't help him, even if they shipped him back to Earth, he wouldn't trade a minute of it. Not only would he not trade Ronon's life for his eyes, he wouldn't trade the family that he'd made either. He fell asleep wondering what he could say to General O'Neill that would allow him to stay in Atlantis, his home.

OoOoOoOoO

Dr. Donnelly watched the tension fade from Sheppard's face as sleep overtook him. She lowered the head of the bed and gently removed the sunglasses, placing them within easy reach.

She checked his vitals quickly. Definite improvement. She had overheard part of the conversation the night before with Ronon, had seen the acceptance on the pilot's face as he came to grips with his situation. His change of attitude would go a long way in his recovery.

Caitlyn annotated his chart and lowered the lights around his bed. Giving her patient one last glance before returning to the office, she hoped Dr. McKay found something of use. Although gaining ground, John Sheppard still needed all the help he could get.

OoOoOoOoO

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Rodney asked for the third time.

"McKay…."

"I'm just saying we've been walking through the rubble here for at least thirty minutes."

"I know where I'm going. Now shut up."

"Fine."

Rodney's back was killing him, and the smell was awful. At least Ronon had offered to carry the generator so he didn't have to lug it around this god-forsaken place. He tripped over a large fragment of stone as he gulped down water, succeeding in splashing the precious liquid all over himself and dropping the canteen. Radek turned back to help him, but the Canadian waved him off. After a few choice expletives, Rodney restrapped the now-empty container and stumbled ahead.

They followed Ronon into a large building and down two flights of stairs. The air was stale and musky with the scent decomposition wafting on the air. McKay's eyes watered, and his nose itched. They went down one corridor and then another until Rodney was hopelessly lost. One more hallway, and they arrived at a heavy door covered by a large sign.

"What does that say?"

"'Danger. High voltage.'"

"Must be in the right place then. Can you get the door open?"

Ronon gently set the generator on the floor, reaching for the handle which turned with a squeak. He glanced at McKay with a smirk and walked through using the light from the high powered flashlight Rodney carried. The three men wandered through the large electrical closet until Dex spotted what he was looking for.

"Stay here while I get the generator."

The Satedan walked confidently through the dust and debris to the still open door, picking up the generator easily. He laid it down next to the control panel and took the flashlight from Rodney.

"Do your stuff, McKay."

The scientist opened the panel to what he assumed was the main electrical control and studied it. Rudimentary, really, at least for him. As Zelenka prepared the generator, Rodney traced the wiring far enough to see where the conduit entered the building. After taking a few readings and testing a couple of circuits, they began the delicate work of connecting the naqahdah generator.

McKay worked with his usual intensity, noticing the silence after several minutes. This was typically the time Sheppard showed up and started nagging him to hurry because some really bad thing was about to happen. He could almost hear the conversation in his head and was formulating several witty comebacks. He realized he was grinning and peered up at Ronon and Radek to find them staring back at him.

"Something funny, McKay?" Ronon asked.

"Um, no, just thinking of what Sheppard would say if he were here."

"He'd tell you to get your ass in gear."

"Yep, that's pretty much what I had come up with, too. And then I wou- oh, hey, I think that's it."

Sparks flew as the generator came to life and began energizing the building. Rodney monitored the output carefully, increasing power incrementally as the system allowed. He had no desire to short everything out or to send the hospital up in flames. The circuitry was precarious at best, and he knew they didn't have a great deal of time.

Satisfied that it was holding for the moment, he glanced at Ronon. "Where to?"

"This way."

As Dex retreated from the room, Rodney checked the readings one last time.

"OK, Radek, monitor it carefully. We'll only get one chance at this. If anything, and I mean anything, looks the slightest bit off, pull the plug and contact me immediately."

"I know what to do, Rodney. Go, and good luck."

McKay nodded at Zelenka and headed out after Ronon. Lights fluctuated and machines sputtered as life resurged through conduits that had been dead for a decade. Ronon and McKay raced up several flights of stairs until they reached the fifth floor. They took a left out of the stairwell, past numerous rooms and offices filled with light and sound for the first time in years. Rodney tried to not look at the bodies that lay scattered throughout. He focused on Ronon's back which was growing tenser by the minute.

"Hey, uh, Big Guy, do you think we can slow it down a bit?"

The Satedan wheeled around at his words with an unseeing expression. Rodney wondered if Ronon had forgotten he was behind him.

"You want to do this or what?" Ronon panted between clenched teeth.

"Of course. My idea, remember? I just needed to catch my breath."

The former runner pivoted and walked away, albeit at a slower pace. As a light bulb exploded in one of the offices, Rodney considered what this must be like for his teammate. After losing everything once, he had been forced back here by that crazy Wraith to be hunted. The memories had to be incredibly painful, and yet here he was again.

McKay wasn't sensitive to others by nature; he'd always been proud of that fact until reuniting with his sister a few weeks back. He was making a conscious effort to do better, and failing miserably most of the time. His biggest problem was knowing what to say. He sucked at trying to comfort or commiserate with people. Funny thing was, it was the one thing he and Ronon had in common. Sheppard, too, for that matter. He wondered how Teyla could stand being around them sometimes.

He was so lost in thought that he walked right past the room Dex had entered. Rodney backtracked and looked through the doorway to see Ronon rearranging the rubble.

"What room is this?"

"Research."

As Ronon continued to upright desk and shelves, Rodney hunted for a computer terminal. He found two, but they were completely destroyed. Large books were sprinkled liberally in the room, all written in Satedan which he hadn't learned to read. Yet.

"Do any of these books look like they may have useful information?"

Ronon picked up each one, reading the title and flipping through a few pages. He discarded them one by one.

"Most of them were written long after the Gralan project."

The Satedan wrote a few symbols into the dust.

"This word is melrodin, and this one is crimlox. These are the possible years they were created for the Gralans."

Rodney studied the writing carefully, putting it to memory, and began sifting through the books. After an hour, they still had nothing.

"Any other rooms we can try?"

Ronon paced the room for a bit, focusing. His head lifted suddenly, and he turned to McKay.

"Yes. This way."

They trotted back to the stairs and climbed another two flights. Four rooms to the right was a lab of some kind. Shards of glass covered the floor from broken test tubes and beakers. As they cautiously eased their way through the room, Rodney's heart leapt. He could see one intact computer, and it seemed to be on. He made a bee-line for it, unstrapping his computer tablet on the way.

He dug a chair from under some debris and began studying the desk-sized console. Again, rudimentary. McKay approximated Sateda's technology at around mid-1960s Earth level. He gently removed the casing and examined the circuit boards inside. For a man that didn't believe in anything, he found himself praying a lot these days. He connected his tablet and held his breath.

His screen wavered and rolled before settling down into complete gibberish. He keyed in a few commands, and the translation program Wheelan had written began functioning. Rodney typed furiously as he searched for something useful. Directories and files flew by, none of which were any help. The lights began to flicker urgently.

"Rodney, this is Radek. The generator is beginning to overload the system. You don't have much time."

"Yes, the snap, crackle and pop of the lights were my first clue. Do what you can to keep it running."

As McKay continued his quest, he could hear Ronon plowing through pieces of furniture, books, and equipment. The sudden absence of noise caught his attention, and he turned to find Dex with his nose buried in an old medical journal. The Satedan looked at him and grinned.

"Find something?"

"Yeah. An article on the deleterious effects of melrodin."

"Keep looking. Maybe there's more."

Ronon tucked the journal in his coat and resumed his burrowing as a directory popped up on McKay's screen. _Jackpot_. Rodney was almost giddy as he downloaded the information to his tablet. He tapped on the keys, persistent in his search, and found three more files with data about melrodin. He scoured the system yet again, and his jaw dropped. The surging lights screamed at him to hurry, and he downloaded the last file without trying to think of the implications.

McKay double checked his tablet to ensure the files had saved properly and promptly backed them up to his data pad. He couldn't take a chance of losing this information. Someone somewhere had to be able to use it. He unhooked his cables and stored his equipment.

"Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, Chewie, I think I did. Let's go home." He keyed his radio. "Radek, we're on our way."

As they exited the room, Rodney heard a loud buzz followed by a bang as the computer terminal shorted out followed closely by the lights. Ronon turned on the flashlight, and they made their way back down to Zelenka who had the generator disengaged by the time they arrived. Dex hefted the power source after handing the flashlight to McKay, and the three men picked their way carefully out of the building and through the rubble to the stargate.

"Were you successful in your search, Rodney?"

"I think so, Radek. I just hope it's enough to make a difference for Sheppard."

McKay dialed the gate and input his IDC. Time to return to Atlantis and find out.

------------------

_tbc_


	6. Family

**Chapter 6**

The grin on Rodney's face told Weir all she needed to know.

"You found something."

"Yes, I- we did. Give me an hour to get organized, and I'll brief you. I'd like Geranto, Wheelan and Beckett there as well."

McKay raced from the gateroom to get cleaned up and sort through the files. Ronon handed the journal he'd found to Zelenka, the generator to the nearest Marine, and headed to the infirmary. Radek smiled at Weir, pushed up his spectacles and went to the mess hall for a bite to eat and the biggest glass of water he could find.

Elizabeth informed Geranto, Wheelan and Beckett of the meeting and contacted Lorne to have his team stand down. She knew Ronon would update Sheppard and that she would shortly learn what secrets Sateda had revealed. She wandered back to her office, took one look at the stacks of paperwork, and walked back out. She made her way to her favorite balcony and felt the tiniest bit of peace wash over her. With closed eyes and face upturned to the sun, she reveled in the stillness as she breathed in the ocean air.

An hour later, the group gathered in the main conference room to review Rodney's findings. McKay ran in carrying several computer tablets. As he handed them around the room, Radek distributed flash drives.

"OK, people, these tablets contain copies of the files that I found on Sateda. Zelenka is giving you a scanned copy of a medical journal that Ronon discovered. On your tablet is a translation program that will convert Satedan to English. Wheelan, I would like you to make sure the translation program is working as it should. Geranto, the files contain numerous chemical formulas. See what they are. Carson, there seems to be quite a bit of medical jargon. Summarize it as best you can. Make as many copies of this as you need. Questions?"

"Do you have any idea if there is something in here that can help the colonel?" Becket queried.

Rodney opened his mouth and snapped it shut, thinking about what he'd seen. "I believe so, yes. But none of these areas are my specialties so I would rather you people take a look at it and tell me."

Stunned silence filled the room as jaws dropped at his words. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Maybe, just maybe, Rodney was learning to depend on others. For him to admit he didn't have all the answers spoke to how rattled he was.

"With Dr. Weir's permission, I'd like to meet back here at the same time tomorrow to discuss what you've learned." At her acquiescence, he stood. "Let's get to work."

They filed from the conference room, heading to their respective labs. Weir caught McKay before he got too far.

"What did you really find, Rodney?"

He sighed, refusing to meet her gaze. "I just don't know enough about his medical condition to really be able to answer that." He kicked at an imaginary spot on the floor.

Elizabeth sensed the scientist's embarrassment. "Rodney, I don't expect you to know about medicine. That's why I have a medical staff. You can still be considered a genius even if you don't know everything."

"I know that. I just wish I was going to be able to help more."

"You brought back the information from Sateda. Carson and his people are the best. If there's a cure there, they'll find it. Just tell me your opinion of the data."

He rubbed his eyes and looked at her exhaustedly. "From what I could tell, the Satedans discovered the effects of melrodin on the eyes. They had already developed crimlox to treat poisoning. It appears the head scientist on the project recognized the dangers of ocular melrodin exposure and was experimenting on a treatment. I don't think he finished, but he was on the right track."

"Any idea why he didn't finish?"

McKay lifted a shoulder. "Couldn't tell you. Maybe he died; maybe another project came along; maybe he just stopped caring."

"What kind of treatment was it?"

"That's where my lack of medicine interferes. I couldn't decipher some of the information. But from what I could tell, the experiments were working. They were just dangerous."

"Dangerous? How?"

"It seemed to involve re-exposing the patient to melrodin. Carson should be able to tell us more."

"OK then. I'll wait to hear his report tomorrow. Oh, and Rodney? Well done."

He gave her a small smile. "We'll see."

McKay trudged from the conference room and stood undecidedly for a minute. His mind screamed for sleep while his stomach shouted as loudly for food. And he really wanted to check on Sheppard. He made his choice and headed to the infirmary.

When he entered, he found the pilot sleeping and Teyla sitting near him, humming an Athosian tune while her nimble fingers danced intricately as she added beading to a ceremonial gown. Ronon was perched on the unoccupied bed next to Sheppard, sharpening a knife.

"How is he?"

Teyla gave him a brilliant smile. "He is much better. Dr. Beckett helped him take a few steps today. His appetite has returned as well. Of course, that may be due to football."

"I'm sorry, did you say 'football'?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes. Several people were here earlier watching a game."

"Football. I'm gone a few hours, and he's hosting parties and watching football. What's next? Beer and pizza?"

"Yes, but you aren't invited if you keep shouting," John mumbled.

Rodney rounded to stare at Sheppard. "Hey! You're awake."

"I am now. Help me raise the head of this bed."

McKay scrambled to find the controls as John slid his shades on.

"OK, tell me when." Rodney pressed the button, and the bed began to incline.

"I'm good there. Thanks. You guys OK?"

"We're fine, Sheppard," Ronon rumbled.

"How was Sateda?"

"Just as nasty and smelly as last time."

"McKay…."

"I'm just saying…."

"Did you find anything?"

Ronon and McKay shared a glance. At Dex's shrug, Rodney treaded carefully. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"We found some medical files, but they haven't been analyzed yet. So, maybe. We'll know something more in a few days."

"When are you springing me, Doc?"

Rodney looked around in confusion until he realized Dr. Keller was standing behind him.

"How'd you know she was there?"

"She smells better than you."

At Ronon's guffaw and Teyla's giggle, McKay drew himself up to his full height. "I'll have you know I just showered."

A familiar lop-sided grin emerged. "She still smells better."

"OK, you three. That's enough for now. Colonel Sheppard has an appointment with the scanner."

At Keller's no-nonsense look Rodney, Teyla and Ronon bid John goodbye and strolled to the commissary. The heavenly scent of food caused McKay's stomach to remind him how empty it was. He and Ronon snatched and filled trays while Teyla found a table. In mere moments, the group was happily munching.

"Rodney, do you really think any of the information you found will help Colonel Sheppard?"

"I hope so, Teyla. As much as I hate to admit it, this is more Carson's area than mine. I do know there's a lot to be done. It may take a while."

"What does that mean, McKay?"

"That means, Chewie, that he may be blind for weeks if not months."

Teyla dropped her fork and stared at Rodney in dismay. "Months? Will they allow him to stay on Atlantis?"

Rodney's jaw tightened. "They will if I have anything to say about it."

"Surely there must be something more we can do."

"Been thinking about that. We can help him get around and do stuff. He is still valuable regardless of his sight."

"What are you suggesting, Ronon?"

"He knew Keller was near a few minutes ago because he could smell her shampoo."

"Her shampoo? How do you know that was shampoo he was smelling?"

"Because I could smell it too, McKay."

If Rodney didn't know better, he would swear the man was blushing.

Teyla looked at Dex thoughtfully. "So you are suggesting we teach him to use his other senses to function."

"Yes. I can teach him to rely on his hearing and sense of smell as well as his instincts."

"He loses his concentration many times when we spar. I could assist him with that."

Teyla and Ronon looked at Rodney expectantly.

"What? You want me to teach him to drink coffee? He already knows how to do that. All my other skills are computer related. Besides, I have…lots…of…."

The Athosian smiled as the finger snapping started. McKay's eyes widened as a goofy grin lit his face.

"I've got just the thing. Can't believe I didn't figure it out before. See you guys later."

He pushed back from the table and headed to his lab at high speed, leaving Teyla and Ronon to clean up after him.

"What do you think he has?"

"With McKay, who knows."

They dumped their trays and headed to the infirmary to have a chat with Dr. Keller.

OoOoOoOoO

Rodney rummaged through the pieces of Ancient technology that he hadn't had time to fully examine yet. He knew it was there somewhere. The mechanism hadn't made sense the first time he'd activated it, not to mention the effort it took to make it work. Sheppard, on the other hand, should be able to use it in his sleep.

Now, if he could just remember which pile he'd put it in. He tossed the holographic picture display, both of the floating reading lamps, and the video phone with no buttons onto the next table. Underneath it all was the metallic wristband he'd been hunting. He slapped it on his wrist and concentrated. He smiled as it came to life. He decided to test it and closed his eyes as he walked toward the doors, through the hallway and into the transporter. Perfect.

When he entered the infirmary, he found Teyla and Ronon engrossed in a conversation with Dr. Keller. Bypassing them, he meandered over to the pilot's bed where the pilot lay, seemingly asleep. Rodney cleared his throat, and Sheppard's head immediately swiveled his direction.

"What's up, McKay?"

"How could you have possibly known it was me?"

"Because that clearing of the throat is distinctly you."

"Oh. Well, I brought you something. It won't be much use at the moment, but once you're better and walking around on your own, I thought you might be able to use it."

"You brought me a seeing-eye dog?"

"Oh, har-har. Where would I get a dog?"

Sheppard grinned at him. "I never rule anything out when it comes to you. So, no dog. Too bad. I like dogs."

"Ewwww. They lick you and jump on you and are generally a nuisance. Cats are much more civilized."

McKay couldn't see his eyes but knew he was rolling them. "Dogs are man's best friend. Haven't you ever had a dog?"

Rodney was aghast. "Are you kidding? Do I strike you as the type that spent hours playing catch with some mangy mutt in the hot sun?"

John sighed. "You missed out on one of the better parts of childhood then. Now, what did you bring me?"

"Hold out your arm."

"Is this going to hurt?"

"No, Colonel Tough Guy. It won't hurt. Now stick out your arm."

Sheppard raised his right arm and waited as Rodney removed the wristband and restrapped it on the pilot.

"There."

"There what?"

"I want you to concentrate on activating it."

"What does it do?"

"Are we playing twenty questions? Just concentrate."

John thought about the wristband. His entire body jerked as an image flooded his mind.

"Oh my God, McKay! This is fantastic! Where did you find it?"

Sheppard could hear the smug smile in Rodney's voice. "I've had it in my lab for about a year."

"A year! Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"In all my spare time?"

"We could have used this on several missions."

"Alas, I tried it once. It only works on Atlantis."

At the commotion Dr. Keller, Ronon and Teyla had gathered around Sheppard's bed. Jennifer's face mirrored the concern in her voice. "What is that?"

"That is a device that allows you to see without your eyes." McKay beamed.

"What?"

"It seems to be a cross between a life signs detector and infrared sensors overlayed on a map of Atlantis."

Keller looked nonplussed. "What did he just say?"

John swallowed a laugh. "I can see what's in this room in my mind – the walls, the beds, the chairs, the equipment. It must have a map of Atlantis programmed in along with some type of sensors for the objects in a room. You show up as heat signatures of a sort. Gives a whole new meaning to wristwatch."

Keller observed the team for a minute. Colonel Sheppard obviously did better in their presence. A quick glance at the machines monitoring him reinforced the concept. She considered the idea Teyla and Ronon had proposed. It just might be the best thing for the Air Force pilot. She watched as he directed the other three to move around so he could track them. He was like a kid on Christmas morning, and McKay wasn't much better.

"Well, I can't tell you apart, but I can follow where you are. This is so cool!"

"Ronon and Teyla have an idea that I think will help you, Colonel."

Sheppard turned in Keller's direction. "What idea is that, Doc?"

She smiled at him. "I'll let them tell you. Don't forget that your body has gone through a great deal of trauma in the past few days. You will need to build up your strength slowly. If you overdo it, you may relapse." She looked at Ronon with a serious expression. "I expect you to remember that, too."

Ronon returned her gaze steadily. "I'll remember."

She departed as John turned from one team member to the next. "What idea?"

Teyla placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Ronon and I would like to assist you as you recover. I would like to work on your concentration, and he will teach you to rely on your other senses until your sight returns."

John started to protest but reconsidered. Accepting help from other people was not something he relished doing. But these weren't just any people; they were his family. Not like the family he was used to – demanding, critical, selfish. They were the family he'd always wanted – accepting, selfless, self-sacrificing. They risked their lives for him on a regular basis, and he trusted them. Sometimes it really was that simple.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Sounds good. When do we start?"

Teyla looked a little dumbfounded. She hadn't expected him to agree so easily. "We can begin any time you wish. Much of the work is mental. After you are stronger, you will take the basics of what you have learned, and Ronon will teach you to move about on your own."

"Isn't that what the device McKay gave me is for?"

Ronon snorted. "That device only tells you so much. I can teach you how to distinguish people and other details."

"I thought I was doing pretty good at that already."

"Pretty good at what, Colonel?" The sudden Scottish brogue caught John by surprise.

"You're right, Ronon, I could use some help with that. Teyla, could we start tomorrow?"

"Of course, John. We will let you rest now." Ronon and Teyla turned to leave.

"I'll be in my lab working through the data from Sateda. See you later." Rodney began to follow his teammates.

"Hey, McKay. Thanks for my new watch. See you around."

As the doors slid shut behind his team, Carson turned back to Sheppard.

"And what was that all about?"

John smiled contentedly. "My team taking care of me."

OoOoOoOoO

The next day, Sheppard began concentration exercises with Teyla followed by auditory and sensory testing with Ronon. In between, various members of the medical staff helped him employ unused muscles as he took a few stumbling steps on his own. He clenched his jaw and redoubled his efforts. His use to this expedition was not limited to his eyes, and he was going to do everything in power to get back to being the old John Sheppard.

OoOoOoOoO

Later in the afternoon the group of scientists studying the Sateda data reconvened with Dr. Weir in the conference room.

"OK, gentlemen, what have you found?"

Dr. Wheelan began. "I've gotten through about half of the data at this point. I have not found any errors in the translation. I asked Ronon to clarify a few words, but none that would be important."

Weir hadn't expected any translation problems. Doug Wheelan had a gift for languages that was unparalleled. They had worked together several times in drafting agreements back on Earth. He was the best and had been invaluable to the expedition.

Miguel Geranto stood to hand out reports. "This is the chemical composition of the elements listed in the files. The Gralans provided samples of all of them when my team went back ten days ago. We don't have to completely reinvent the wheel, but we do have some work ahead of us. The eye treatment the Satedan scientist was working on is a mixture of the melrodin and the crimlox compounds. He never found the right combination. We will need to recreate his experiments and carry them forward. He seemed to be having some success, but none of significance."

Elizabeth turned to Beckett. "Carson?"

"As far as I can tell, the damage is not like a chemical burn. A layer of the cornea called Bowman's membrane has absorbed the melrodin. This absorption stretches the fibers of the membrane. Instead of actual scars on his eyes, we are seeing melrodin-filled fibers."

"Can it be drained?"

"I don't think so. Again, I'm not an expert on the eye. From what I have read, the melrodin is binding to the fibers. After a certain amount of time, the damage will be irreversible."

"So we don't have an unlimited amount of time here."

"No, we don't. The research indicates that we have less than three days before it's permanent."

At the horrified expressions around the room, the physician shook his head. "I know. It's not enough time. The doctor from the Daedalus won't even be here by then."

"How close was the scientist to completing this?"

"Not very close, Elizabeth. He was beginning to see results, but as Dr. Geranto said, none of significance. He was combining compounds to make a paste that he placed directly on the corneas to draw the melrodin from the membrane. I can't explain the science of it to you, but something in the paste was causing the melrodin to unbind from the membrane. The substance with which he had the most success removed approximately a tenth of that damn chemical. And the procedure is extremely painful."

Silence descended. Elizabeth put on her most determined look and rose to her feet.

"Well, we still have three days to come up with something. And gentlemen, I would prefer that information to stay in this room. Now, let's get back to work."

Everyone except McKay stood, gathered their belongings, and left. Weir hesitated in the doorway. He hadn't spoken during the entire meeting, something completely out of character for him.

"Rodney?"

"It won't be enough, will it? I thought we would have more time. Development of this kind takes weeks, sometimes months."

"Let's not give up quite yet."

"You heard what Carson said."

"I heard Carson say we had three days. We have an entire team, the most brilliant minds in two galaxies I might add, working on this, not just one man."

"Are you going to tell him?"

The thought of delivering that particular message was more than she could handle at the moment.

"Not yet. I'd rather give him three more days of optimism."

McKay nodded absently. "Yeah. Me too."

Rodney headed back to his office, shoulders slumped and eyes to the ground. Three days. Seventy-two hours. Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes.

It wasn't going to be enough.

------------------------

_tbc_


	7. It's a Wonderful Life

**Chapter 7**

John woke to the sounds of scurrying medical personnel. He listened carefully but didn't hear any cries of pain, beeping monitors, or shouts for assistance. The nurse that came to check his vitals denied anything out of the ordinary happening when he asked. He decided to put what Teyla and Ronon had taught him earlier to use. He calmed his breathing and concentrated, allowing his ears to see for him. Whispers reached him, but he couldn't decipher the words no matter how hard he tried.

He focused on the wristband Rodney had given him and discovered three people on the far side of the room. He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed and used his IV pole to pull himself up. It took a minute to get his wobbly knees under control, but once he did, he took a tentative step, pausing to grab his sunglasses and slide them on. Carson had removed the cardiac leads the day before which left the pulse-ox clip on his finger. He eased over to the monitor and switched it off from memory, pulling the clip from his hand.

Sheppard was breathing hard after the first few steps, but he was moving under his own power. The watch told him the three people were still there, and he took another few steps, listening attentively. He could almost make out what they were saying, something about mixing a paste and testing it on collagen fibers. A few more steps-

"What do you think you are doing?"

Busted.

"Hey, Carson. I was getting lonely over there all by myself. Thought I'd see what you three are up to."

"Three? How did you- Oh, the wrist-thingy Rodney gave you. Well, we are up to doctor stuff so back to bed with you."

"Come on, Doc. I just want to-"

"Rodney, I think Colonel Sheppard needs a change of venue. Why don't you grab a wheelchair and sit for a minute out on the balcony?"

McKay spluttered, "I don't have-"

"Rodney."

"Fine."

"Look, McKay, if you don't want to…."

"It's not that, Sheppard. It's just that I…. Here, sit down before you fall down."

Rodney guided John into the chair a nurse had brought. Carson tucked a blanket around him and gave strict instructions to be back in thirty minutes. Sheppard held the IV pole as McKay pushed him toward his favorite balcony. As they navigated the halls of Atlantis, John could feel the strain in the air, a tension normally reserved for Wraith attacks and Genii invasions.

The doors to the balcony slid open, and the ocean breeze welcomed him. He breathed it in deeply, relishing the sun on his face as Rodney shifted nervously behind him.

"OK, spill it, McKay. What's going on?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me. I mean the frantic feeling in the air. Everyone's running around like the Wraith are back. The Wraith aren't back, are they?" John could feel the panic rising in his chest at the thought.

"No, Sheppard, the Wraith aren't back. Calm down. Nothing's wrong."

"You suck at lying, remember? Now tell me what's going on."

McKay heaved a sigh and paced for a minute. Sheppard's instincts were sharp. Rodney knew there was no way to keep the truth from the pilot. The man would find out eventually; someone would slip up in his presence. The scientist decided he would rather tell John than have him find out accidentally. He pushed the chair to the balcony's edge and stood next to him, leaning against the railing.

"We've been analyzing the data we got from Sateda. We aren't done yet, but it looks like there is a cure, at least the potential for one. We have to finish the experiments the Satedans started."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Rodney hung his head. _God, this was hard_. "We have less than three days before the damage is permanent."

McKay heard Sheppard's sharp intake of breath as the pilot turned away. "Three days?"

"Yes. It seems that crap hardens and can't be removed after three weeks. God, Sheppard, I'm sorry. We're doing everything we can."

John turned his face back to Rodney and smiled. "I know you are, Rodney. I know everyone is, and I appreciate it. Just be sure someone's still watching over Atlantis."

"Lorne's got the regular security detail still in place. We've suspended off-world activity for right now. Beckett's got his people working on this, and I've got the entire Science department on it. If it can be found, we'll find it."

"McKay, I'm just one guy. We can't have every resource here devoted to me."

"If it weren't for that deadline, I would agree. But we can stand down for three days."

"When is the Daedalus due?"

"Five days."

Five days. At least he'd know before Caldwell got here if he were giving up his position or not.

The two men lingered quietly for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, McKay sighed and faced Sheppard.

"Guess I'd better get you back before Beckett sends out search parties."

"Guess so. Hey, Rodney?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah."

McKay pushed the wheelchair slowly back to the infirmary. Along the way, several people stopped to greet the Air Force colonel. Sheppard was his usual self, witty and charming, but Rodney knew him well enough to recognize the fatigue and strain. He picked up the pace and reached the doors as the pilot was beginning to list in the chair. Beckett was waiting and helped get John resettled in the hospital bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"I told him, Carson."

"You did what?"

"I told him about the deadline. He could tell something was wrong. I preferred to do it rather than him find out by accident."

"How did he take it?"

"Better than I expected. He's actually more concerned about the safety of Atlantis."

"Aye, that sounds like him. Back to it then?"

"Yeah, back to it."

The two doctors headed to their respective labs. They had a lot of work to do.

OoOoOoOoO

The next two days went by in a blur. John spent every waking moment working with Teyla or Ronon. The Satedan had him walking on his own and identifying where he was and who was present. He had medical exams by whoever was available while the rest centered their attention on research. Weir helped him stroll to the balcony a few times.

"The chemistry department is making various compounds based on the Satedan data. Carson has all his people running tests on it. Anything that looks promising is retested extensively."

"Elizabeth, I don't know what to say. I appreciate the lengths everyone is going to for me."

"You sound surprised, John. Did you think we would respond differently?"

"It's like I told McKay, I'm just one guy. The idea that all of these people put their lives on hold just for me is a little mind-boggling."

"Would you do any different?"

"What do you mean?"

"If only Ronon had been affected and had lost his sight, would you go on as usual or would you fight to help him?"

"I'd fight."

"Then why do you think we would do less for you?"

Sheppard squirmed a bit at her question. He tried to think of an answer but came up blank.

"John, just because you aren't used to people caring about you doesn't mean you aren't worthy of our efforts."

Now he was really squirming. He had no idea how to respond. He sucked at expressing his feelings like McKay sucked at lying.

"Um, thanks. I, uh… thanks."

He felt her hand gently pat his arm. "You're welcome."

They stood in companionable silence, enjoying the day. The headache that had been Sheppard's constant companion since he awoke in the infirmary almost two weeks ago began to spike alarmingly. He gripped the railing and lowered his head, trying to breathe through it.

"John, what's wrong?"

"Mmm. Headache."

"Should I call Carson?"

"Just give me a minute."

He swayed a bit, fighting vertigo and nausea. The pain continued to increase, exploding behind the eyelids he had clenched tightly shut. He gagged as he clutched his head, dropping to his knees. He could barely hear Elizabeth calling for help over the roar in his ears. He felt Weir's hands on his shoulders, and he shook with the effort to stay conscious. Then strong hands grasped his arms and pulled him onto a gurney.

The rolling movement allowed the nausea to win the battle, and he turned onto his side as his lunch reappeared. He heard Beckett giving orders as they came to a stop and felt the physician's hands holding his head. After a minute, they started moving again, and he held on, praying for the good drugs when they reached the infirmary.

Gentle hands transitioned him to the bed and washed his face, allowing him to rinse the foul taste from his mouth. A minute later he felt a needle puncture a vein and sweet relief course through his system. He surrendered to unconsciousness and floated away.

OoOoOoOoO

Beckett watched the pain erase itself from the pilot's face as the drugs took hold. He turned to Weir.

"What happened?"

"I have no idea, Carson. We were just standing there when he became ill. Said he had a headache."

The doctor leaned over Sheppard, pulling up each eyelid and scanning it with a small hand-held device.

"Oh no."

"What is it?"

"The fibers in his eyes are spasming. That's what is causing the pain. The notes indicate this as the final stage. He will have a raging headache for the next twelve to twenty-four hours. Cessation of pain will indicate the melrodin has completely hardened."

"How close are we?"

"We have been applying different combinations of the paste to sample fibers for two days now. The closest we've come has removed fifty percent of the melrodin."

"That's it?" Weir began to pace. "Could we just increase the strength?"

"We're trying. It doesn't quite work that way. We have to know which compound to increase. It's all about ratios."

"Can we apply this as a stop-gap measure?"

"No. The paste causes the melrodin to break its bond to the fibers. Any part that isn't broken only continues to harden."

"Would he get any of his sight back?"

"Some, but not much." Carson felt as inconsolable as Elizabeth sounded. He was responsible for the health and safety of everyone in the city, and he was failing one of his favorite people. He cursed his lack of knowledge, the melrodin, the Gralans, the Satedans, and the Ancients on general principle.

"I need to tell him."

"Actually, Rodney already has. Now, before you go yelling at him, know that Colonel Sheppard pestered it out of him. John knew something was wrong. Rodney wanted him to find out from a friend instead of an overheard conversation. I think he was right."

Weir gave a sad sigh. "He was right. We still need to give John the option of a partial cure."

"As soon as the lad wakes up, I'll explain everything to him."

"Thank you, Carson." Weir massaged her temples and gave him a grim look before making her way to the door.

Beckett began checking Sheppard's vitals. Elevated blood pressure did not come as a great shock to the physician. He examined the pilot with a clinical eye. The last couple of weeks had not been kind. The man had lost at least fifteen pounds. His muscle tone had deteriorated, and pain had sketched new lines on his forehead and the corners of his eyes.

Carson retreated to his office to log the information on the medical chart. He checked his email and found forty-seven new ones, almost all dealing with the research. He scanned them, looking for what he knew he wouldn't find – good news. Nothing.

A groan from the other room interrupted his reading, and he peeked out to find John stirring. He moved quickly to the military man's side, grabbing a wrist to check his pulse.

"Carson?"

"Aye, lad. How are you feeling?"

"Unghhh…. I've felt better."

"Would you like to sit up?"

"I think so."

Carson slowly raised the head of the bed and then gave John some water. "How's that?"

"Better."

"And how's the headache?"

"I've had worse, I think."

The doctor pulled a chair over and sat down. "I need to talk to you for a minute. Is the pain tolerable enough for you to focus on what I'm saying?"

John thought for a minute and nodded. "I'm listening, Doc. What is it?"

"I know Rodney told you about the treatment and the time limit. The headache you have is a result of a rapidly approaching deadline. There isn't much time left, son. I need to know what you want to do."

Carson could see Sheppard's jaw working as he clenched his teeth and mulled over the words. "What are my options?"

The physician sighed and prepared himself to deliver the bad news. No matter how many times he did something like this, it never got easier, thankfully.

"First, we can do nothing. You can stay the way you are right now, continue building strength and learn to live without sight. Second, we can try the most successful combination we've concocted which removes about fifty percent of the toxin from your eyes. You would gain a bit of eyesight back, but not much. You would also be exposed to a bit of the melrodin again, and I have no idea how your body might react. Your heart and lungs are still recovering from the last time, so while I think the risk is small, it is potentially fatal."

John turned to him. "Fatal? Crap, Carson, I don't like either of those. Is there a third option?"

"I'm not done yet, lad. Not only is there a risk, the procedure itself will be extremely painful. The only third option I see is to give us a few more hours to work on this, hoping to find something that's more than fifty percent effective. But it would have the same risks, and if we wait too long it will be for naught."

Beckett watched Sheppard struggle with the news. Finally John dipped his head and asked, "Can I think about it?"

"Of course you can. Would you like to sit out on the balcony? I would prefer you to stay nearby in case the headache spikes again."

"That's fine."

"Give me a minute to get a couple of things settled. I'll be right back."

Carson stepped back into his office and decided to contact Teyla. She had the most calming influence on Sheppard and would respect his need for privacy.

"Beckett to Teyla."

"This is Teyla."

"Are you available for a few minutes, love? I need someone to help Colonel Sheppard to the balcony and monitor him for me."

"Of course, Carson. I will be there shortly."

The doctor found a wheelchair and a blanket and was helping John stand when Teyla entered. The pilot's head lifted at her arrival.

"Hey, Teyla."

"Good afternoon, John."

"Did you get Colonel-keeping duty today?"

The Athosian appeared confused. "What do you mean?"

"Never mind. I'm a little cranky at the moment. Are you here to push my chair?"

"Yes, unless you have an objection?"

"No objection, Teyla. I appreciate it."

Beckett gave the blanket to Sheppard and waved to Teyla as she pushed the wheelchair from the room. He stared after them for a minute and then pushed the depressing thoughts from his mind and headed to the research lab.

OoOoOoOoO

When they reached the doors of the balcony, John asked Teyla to stop and help him to stand. He didn't want any company at the moment. She quickly acquiesced and soon he was sitting on the bench of the infirmary's balcony. He cleared his mind with difficulty and sat in peace. The headache was an ever-present roar but was manageable for the time being. For the first few minutes, he simply enjoyed the crashing of the waves and the gentle breeze.

He took off the aviator shades and rubbed his eyes. That mistake succeeded in increasing the pounding in his head. He laid the glasses next to him, putting his face in his hands. He really didn't like any of the options Beckett had presented, but number three seemed like the best choice. His initial reaction was to immediately throw the first option out. He had never run from a fight in his life and wasn't about to start now. He could and would live with the blindness if he had to, but any chance of recovering his sight was worth the risk.

He hoped that he could prove himself useful with limited or no sight, but his command would go to another if he lived through option two. His command. He had never considered the possibility of ever commanding anything more than a helicopter, and he knew no one else had either. He marched to the beat of his own drummer and had never regretted it, not even after his dad had disowned him. If he had the opportunity, he'd defy orders again in an attempt to save Holland, even knowing how it would turn out.

He had been given another chance at life to his everlasting surprise. He had found a new home and a new family. He had faced Genii, Wraith, Asurans, even a goa'uld once, and had lived to tell the tale. He'd had his doubts during his last encounter with Kolya but had somehow emerged unscathed, physically anyway. He'd faced down hive queens, had survived being bitten by an iratus bug once and almost turning into one on another occasion, and had been moments away from dying on a kamikaze run in a jumper. And now he could lose his command, his ability to fly, his way of life because he took a stroll in the wrong garden at the wrong time. _Oh, the irony_.

John reconsidered option one. Rather than risk his life, he could accept this and move on. If he couldn't stay on Atlantis as a part of the military, he could resign his commission and work as a civilian. His gene wasn't damaged that he knew of. He concentrated for a moment and heard the balcony doors slide open and closed. No, his gene still functioned. He could help in the labs, activating devices and such. He deliberated carefully. The work wouldn't be as satisfying as flying, exploring, leading a team, or commanding, but he could live with it.

He thought of his new family: Teyla, the voice of reason, whom he trusted above all others; Ronon, the guardian, who would never back down regardless of the odds; Rodney, the brother he'd never had, who was working tirelessly to help him; Elizabeth, the leader, who accepted everyone's burdens as her own; Carson, the healer, who pulled him back to the land of the living time after time. He felt a bit like Jimmy Stewart in that Christmas movie. He really had a wonderful life. Was he really willing to risk it to regain his sight?

He felt the headache kicking up a notch and decided the time had come to return to the infirmary. He slid on his shades as he gingerly rose from the bench and eased toward the doors. As they slid open he felt Teyla's strong hands guide him to the chair.

"How are you feeling, John?"

"Other than the jackhammer that's doing a number in my head, I'm fine."

"Have you reached a decision?"

_Had he?_ He thought through the options Carson had presented, weighing them carefully. He concentrated, focusing all his energy on how strong his body really was, blocking out all sound until only his heart beat remained. He was ready. He could do this.

"Yeah, Teyla. Let's go see Beckett."

------------

_tbc_


	8. No Matter What

**Chapter 8**

"Are you sure that's what you want to do, lad?" Beckett asked gently.

"Yeah, Carson, I'm sure. You said the risk was minimal. I know I'm a little worse for wear right now, but I've improved a lot in the past couple of days. If you don't find something in the next few hours, we won't do anything. I'm not willing to risk my life for a tiny bit of sight. I'm going with all or nothing."

The physician patted John's arm. "OK, then. We'll get prepped. I need you to know that I won't be able to give you any pain meds. I don't know how they will react with the treatment, especially with your body's weakened condition. You will need to be immobilized. I would suggest a c-collar and restraints."

John paled at the thought. "Restraints? You know how I feel about those."

"Can you guarantee you won't move?"

As much as Sheppard wanted to say yes, he knew he couldn't. "No."

"I don't see any other way."

"Fine. I would like to ask a favor though."

"You name it, son."

"I want to talk to my team and Elizabeth for a minute. After that, keep them and everyone else away. I don't want to see anybody until we know if the treatment worked."

The Scot gripped John's shoulder. "I understand. Now, I'd like you to get back in that bed and reserve your strength while I contact your team. I'll also have a couple of my nurses get you prepped."

Beckett assisted Sheppard to the bed and called for his team. He then summoned his staff to begin preparations. Two nurses helped John into scrubs and began gathering the supplies they would need if a cure was found in time. The pilot lay quietly, listening to the bustle of activity. Soon, the distinctive sounds of his team approaching reached his ears.

"Hey guys," he greeted them.

"Hey yourself. Beckett said you wanted to see us." McKay's tone was not as impatient as usual.

"Yeah. I wanted you to know what I've decided."

"John, you know we will support you regardless of your decision."

"I know, Teyla, and I appreciate it. I'm going to hold out a few more hours to see if a complete cure can be found. If not, I'm going to accept this and move on. No middle ground."

"John, are you sure? Even a little-"

"Elizabeth, you know that I wouldn't be able to fulfill my duties with partial sight. I would be risking my life for very little gain."

"Then I guess I'd better get back to my lab." Rodney clapped a hand on the pilot's shoulder and hurried away.

Sheppard felt Weir's fingers squeeze his. "Do you want us to stay with you for a while?"

He smiled at her. "Yeah. That would be nice."

The three pulled up chairs around his bed and chatted with him about safe, benign topics. As his headache began to increase exponentially, he resorted to just listening. A commotion in Beckett's office caught his attention, but he hurt too much to decipher the conversation. Suddenly, he heard running feet and raised voices. Elizabeth released his hand and walked away, Teyla taking her place.

The pain in his head began to abate a bit, and he took a shuddering breath. Over the roar in his ears, he heard Carson and Weir approach.

"It seems that one of Dr. Geranto's people has found a possible cure. They are rerunning the tests to be sure, but I want to be ready. I need you three to leave so we can work."

"Of course, Dr. Beckett. I will see you later, John." With a final squeeze of his hand, Teyla left.

The military commander felt a strong hand on his shoulder. "Sheppard, I-"

"Ronon, we've already had this conversation."

"I know. I'll be waiting to kick your scrawny butt when this is over."

"I really am going to find out who taught you that phrase."

The Satedan gave his shoulder a hard shake and walked off. Sheppard felt Weir's hand on his again.

"John, regardless of how this turns out, this is your home. You will always have a place here."

"Thanks, Elizabeth. I'll take you up on that."

"Carson, do your best."

"Aye, that I will."

Sheppard heard her footsteps retreating and turned to face Beckett when he heard the pounding tread of McKay in a hurry.

"Wait! Sheppard, I just wanted to… I mean, I…. Good luck, OK?"

"Thanks, Rodney. Oh, and McKay? No matter what happens, I appreciate the work you did. And I can still kick your ass at chess."

"Oh, really? I think you're going to have to prove that to me."

He grinned at the scientist. "I'll see what I can do."

"OK, Rodney, off you go." Carson's brisk tone prodded.

"Later, Sheppard."

"Later, McKay." John heard Rodney exit and took a deep breath.

"How is the headache, son?" Carson asked concernedly.

"Still hurts like a son of a bitch but not as bad as before."

"Then we need to hurry. Jennifer, call everyone over here now, and then secure the doors. I want that c-collar on and the restraints attached."

The staff jumped to do his bidding. In mere moments, John was strapped securely to his hospital bed. One of the nurses attached cardiac leads to his chest, and he could hear the crash cart rolling into position.

"Are you OK there, lad?"

"Been better. Let's get this over with."

"Caitlyn and Roger, please hold onto the colonel's shoulders and arms. Jennifer, you take the right eye, and I'll take the left. Angie, hand me the clamps."

John forced his eyes open so the clamps could be applied properly. The feeling was strange but not painful, and it actually helped that he couldn't see what was happening. He felt a cleansing solution wash over his eyes.

Beckett and Keller began applying the paste simultaneously. He didn't feel much at first, just a little discomfort when the instruments touched his eyes. But after a moment the most incredible pain he'd ever felt hit him. It was different than the pain from the Wraith feeding, but it might actually rival it in intensity. His eyes felt like they were on fire.

Sheppard clenched his jaw to keep from screaming. He could feel it building in his throat, and he shook from the effort of controlling it. He felt the grips on his shoulders and arms tightened as his body fought against the pain.

"I know, son. I'm sorry. We're almost done." Carson soothed.

John's breaths came in ragged pants, and his hands clawed the hospital bed. He felt Beckett and Keller move away and silently begged the pain to go with them. Instead it deepened, ripping the scream from his throat. The roar echoed through the infirmary as he struggled in the restraints. He couldn't keep this up much longer.

"Easy, lad. Take deep breaths."

Sheppard couldn't hear the comforting words as he rode the waves of agony. The world around him faded away until all that was left was the inferno in his eyes. The pain wouldn't back down, and John knew he was losing the battle. He finally surrendered.

OoOoOoOoO

Beckett kept focused on the heart monitor. Sheppard's pulse was racing and his blood pressure was elevated, but he was holding his own.

"Carson, how long do we leave the paste on?" Keller inquired.

"According to the research, at least half an hour. Watch that clock. We have twenty-seven minutes left. Notify me in twenty-five minutes. Caitlyn, love, keep a vigilant watch on his vitals. Let me know of even the minutest change. Angie, please call a couple of orderlies to restock the supplies and straighten this area."

The medical staff acknowledged his orders as he left to report to Weir. Beckett found her and the colonel's team right outside the infirmary doors. They rushed toward him in anticipation.

"Well?" McKay demanded.

"It's too soon to tell. The paste has been applied, but we won't remove it for about half an hour. He came through the procedure in satisfactory condition."

"Satisfactory? What does that mean?" Weir had her arms crossed in front of her in a defensive position.

"It means it was quite painful, and he is unconscious, but he is not in any danger."

"May we see him, Carson?" Teyla requested.

"No, love, not right now. The colonel asked that no one be admitted until this is over and he knows the results."

The physician saw Ronon flinch at his words and knew the man well enough to recognize the displeasure.

"I know you all want to be there but try to understand it from his perspective. He needs to know and adjust to whatever happens before facing you." Beckett placated.

Elizabeth gave a small smile. "We know, Carson. Just keep us informed."

"I will. I estimate the lad will be unconscious for a couple of hours. Please, get something to eat and try to rest if you can, especially you, Rodney. I'll notify you when he's ready."

The doctor waited until the four friends had left the area before returning to the infirmary. Keller was still staring at the clock as Donnelly watched the monitors. He observed his staff for a moment. The orderlies had cleared the area around the pilot's bed, and someone had removed the restraints and the c-collar and had changed the sheets. He felt his heart swell with pride. They really were the best in at least two galaxies.

Jennifer heard his approach. "Fifteen more minutes, Carson."

"His vitals are good. In fact his heart rate and blood pressure are returning to normal." Caitlyn added.

"Thank you, ladies. I'll be back in a bit. I want to check the research to make sure we do the rest of this properly."

Beckett proceeded to his office and called up the data on his computer. He double-checked his facts and noted the supplies he would need. He ran through the information once more and then started toward the storeroom to gather the materials. He carried them to Sheppard's bedside and organized them.

"Time's up, Carson."

"Thank you, Jennifer. Let's see about cleaning that stuff off."

Beckett and Keller began washing the paste away, dabbing at the pilot's face with the towels that had been placed on his pillow. John flinched at the touch and tried to pull away.

"Caitlyn, can you help hold him?"

Dr. Donnelly leaned over the unconscious man and gently placed a hand on each side of his face, whispering soothing words. He twitched as the liquid dripped on his eyes but stopped struggling. As Carson and Jennifer continued, the paste began to melt away revealing black pupils and hazel irises.

"Oh, thank God," Beckett breathed.

The doctors finished their ministrations, taking great care to remove every last bit of the paste. The Scot grabbed his scanner and ran it over the pilot's face, giving a slight frown at the results.

"Carson?" Keller questioned.

"The readings are inconclusive. We'll have to wait until he awakens."

Beckett removed the clamps and gently bandaged John's eyes while Donnelly and Keller cleared the area. Once everything was in proper order, he dragged a chair next to the bed. He laid his head on his hands near the edge and closed his eyes, struggling against the overwhelming exhaustion.

He hadn't meant to drift off and wasn't aware that he had until he heard Sheppard moan. Carson leapt from the chair, hastily checking the monitors before turning his attention to the waking pilot.

"John, can you hear me?"

"C'rs'n?"

"Yes, lad. We've finished, and I've bandaged your eyes. How do you feel?"

"Thir…sty. Head hurts."

"I know, son. Let me get you some water."

Beckett placed the straw between John's lips as the man took a small sip. After another drink, the pilot turned away.

"Are you ready for me to take the bandages off, Colonel?"

Sheppard took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Keep your eyes closed until I tell you." Carson carefully unwrapped the bandages and removed the gauze.

"OK, John. Open your eyes."

The Air Force man slowly forced his eyelids upward and blinked a few times. Beckett smiled at clear, hazel eyes shining in the dim light until he saw the pilot's jaw clench and the lids slam shut.

"Colonel?"

"It didn't work, Carson. I can't see a thing."

OoOoOoOoO

"Where is that damn voodoo witchdoctor? It's been over three hours. He should definitely know something by now."

"Rodney!" Weir snapped. "Sit down. You are making me a nervous wreck with your pacing."

McKay turned back to her and saw Carson emerge from the infirmary, the Scot's face an open book.

"Oh, no."

The others looked up at his words.

"Carson?" Elizabeth whispered.

"It didn't work, did it? We didn't get it done in time. Dammit!" McKay swore as he slumped down in a chair.

Beckett hung his head for a minute, biting his lip. "Not exactly."

Rodney raised his gaze hopefully. "What does that mean?"

"The melrodin has been removed from his eyes, but he still cannot see."

"Why?" Ronon demanded.

"I don't know. Maybe it takes some time for sight to return. Maybe it will take a bit for his eyes to recover from the trauma. I'll say again that I'm not an expert. But for right now, he is still blind."

"Can we see him now?" Teyla asked.

"Not yet. He isn't ready."

"Well, when will he be ready?"

"I don't know, Rodney. That's up to him. I will inform you when he feels up to having visitors. For right now, please, get some rest all of you. And that is not a request."

McKay tuned the doctor out and stared into space. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He always found the answer at the last minute. How could he fail this time? He saw Teyla wipe a tear away and could see Ronon's jaw working. Elizabeth seemed lost in her own thoughts.

Rodney looked again at Beckett, really looked this time. The man had huge bags under his eyes and appeared completely defeated. McKay realized his friend was blaming himself. He eased up from his chair and placed a hand on the physician's shoulder.

"This isn't your fault, Carson. You did everything you could. We all did. Like you said, sometimes there is no miracle cure. I'm sure Sheppard doesn't blame you."

The teary-eyed Scot gave Rodney a wan smile. "I know he doesn't. He said as much himself. It doesn't make it any easier though."

"Is there nothing else you can do?"

"Elizabeth, I wish there were. How soon will the Daedalus be here?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Then perhaps the specialist from the SGC will be able to help." Beckett drew a deep breath. "Now, off to bed, the lot of you. Come back in the morning, and we'll see how the colonel's feeling."

The five parted ways, dark clouds hanging over them. Maybe tomorrow would be brighter.

OoOoOoOoO

John's sleep was interrupted by an annoying rumbling. As he concentrated, he realized he could hear snoring. Quieting his breathing and his heart as Teyla had instructed, he focused. McKay, had to be. He wondered how the scientist had gotten around Beckett's watchdogs. He envisioned large, pointy needles in the Canadian's future if he got caught, and that snoring practically ensured it.

Sheppard was angry at first that his request had been ignored, but he softened as he thought about it. If it were one of his team lying in here, he would have done the same thing. He blinked at the darkness, hoping for a change and finding none. He tried not to hold out hope for the SGC doctor. As much as he wanted his sight, this rollercoaster ride was getting old. He took a deep cleansing breath and cleared his mind, releasing the bitterness. If this was his lot in life, so be it. A sense of peace washed over him as he drifted off to sleep.

OoOoOoOoO

McKay jolted awake at a sense of movement. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep. Carson would kill him if he found out Rodney had overridden the codes again. He opened an eye to see the night nurse, the one that talked to herself, checking Sheppard's vitals. This time she was singing softly. He started to tell her to stop until he saw the pilot turn his face toward the sound and settle a little deeper in sleep. It was a quaint sounding tune, and McKay snapped his eye shut as she came his way, catching some of the words as she passed.

"…_heart of my own heart, whatever befall, still be my vision…."_

He pondered the strange words before deciding he'd better leave before Beckett found out. He gave Sheppard once last glance and headed to his quarters. He kicked off his shoes and laid down on the bed, fully clothed, the haunting melody still with him. He closed his eyes and whispered what might have been a prayer that the doctor coming tomorrow would be able to help.

OoOoOoOoO

Elizabeth concluded that Rodney's pacing was contagious. The Canadian had been treading the same eight steps back and forth since the Daedalus had arrived an hour earlier. Ronon had followed thirty minutes later. And ten minutes ago she had joined them. She stopped, rubbing her face with her hands and then running her fingers through her hair. Teyla sat quietly, eyes closed in a meditation pose, but Weir could see a knee bouncing.

Carson had allowed them in early that morning. John had smiled and acted like nothing was wrong. He could really bluff when he wanted. But she had been a negotiator for years, and he couldn't fool her. He was reeling from the news and yet trying to protect them. Weir didn't think any of the others bought the act either, but they all pretended to for his sake. She hadn't realized until then how much they had all assumed the answer would be found in the allotted time.

Colonel Steven Caldwell and Dr. Emil Weisbach had beamed directly to the infirmary just after breakfast. Beckett had shooed her and the team out; and so they now waited. She assumed Steven had returned to his ship since she was hearing chatter on her radio about supply transfers.

Finally, the doors to the infirmary opened, and her CMO waved them inside. John turned their way as they entered, and her breath caught again at the hazel eyes. She had never understood fully that her head of military operations spoke with his eyes until three weeks ago. Now the thought that those beautiful eyes were sightless broke her heart. She hoped he would still be able to speak with them even if he couldn't see with them.

As they drew closer she thought she saw a tiny bit of hope registering there. She glanced at Carson and saw the same flicker.

"Gentlemen. You have some good news?"

John gave a small smile. "The doc here thinks he might be able to help me. I'll let him explain it."

Dr. Weisbach, an older man with a kind face, cleared his throat and addressed the group. "Colonel Sheppard's eyes have been damaged by the toxin. It was completely removed but not before stretching the fibers so far that they cannot retract to their normal size, which is causing the blindness. My team has been working on an experimental reconstructive treatment for ocular damage such as this. I would like to emphasize 'experimental'. We have had success approximately sixty percent of the time. I think Colonel Sheppard is a good candidate, and it is a relatively easy procedure to perform."

McKay's frown deepened as he followed the conversation. "What's the catch?"

"I'm sorry. Who are you?"

"Dr. Rodney McKay, resident genius. If it were easy, you would have already done it. So, again, what's the catch?"

"There is no catch, Dr. McKay. I simply do not have the personnel or the equipment to do the treatment here."

"So you want to take him back to Earth."

"Of course."

The room erupted, with Rodney's strident tones overshadowing the rest. "No. No way in hell are you taking him from here."

"Stop it!"

The room fell silent at Sheppard's shout.

"Dr. Weisbach, could you give us a few minutes?"

"Certainly, Colonel."

Carson took the ophthalmologist by the arm. "Why don't I give you a tour of my facilities here?"

OoOoOoOoO

The two doctors left as John's friends started to speak at once. He held up his hand.

"Listen, I appreciate this, really, but this is my decision. Dr. Weisbach thinks he can help me, but I have to go with him."

"What if it doesn't work? You'll be stuck there. I don't know if I'll be able to convince them to send you back."

"I understand the risks, Elizabeth. This was all or nothing, remember? Right now, the only chance I have at recovering my sight is on Earth. If it doesn't work, I'll find a way to get back here. It's the same deal as before. I'll resign my commission, and Rodney can request me as a lab rat. If that doesn't work, maybe General O'Neill or Colonel Carter will sneak me on board the Daedalus."

Rodney folded his arms across his chest and glared at Sheppard. "We're going with you."

"No, you aren't."

"John-"

"No."

"Sheppard-"

"No."

"You need-"

"I need you here, protecting Atlantis while I'm gone. I won't be able to go unless I know that she and you are safe."

"John, are you sure?"

"Yes, Elizabeth, I'm sure. Trust me. Atlantis is my home. I won't give this up without a fight."

OoOoOoOoO

Two hours later, John had packed a bag, said his goodbyes, and gone to the gateroom. Dr. Weisbach and his team were waiting for him at the bottom of the main staircase, and Weir was in her typical spot on the control room overhang.

Sheppard felt Teyla's hands on his shoulders, and he leaned forward until his forehead touched hers.

"Be well, John Sheppard."

"Take care, Teyla. Do what you can to help Elizabeth."

"I will."

Ronon gripped his forearm and pounded on his back. "Hurry back, Sheppard."

"I will, Big Guy. Watch the place for me. Try not to kill McKay."

He heard Dex chuckle as Rodney sputtered indignantly.

John grinned at the scientist and stuck his hand out. "Try to stay out of trouble."

He felt McKay clasp his hand warmly. "You know me."

"Exactly. Don't blow up any solar systems while I'm gone."

"You know, you blow up one solar system, and you never live it down." McKay suddenly sobered. "It's not too late. Are you sure you don't want one of us to go with you?"

Sheppard released Rodney's hand and picked up the bag sitting next to him. "I'm sure. Take care of Atlantis for me. I'll see you when I get back." He turned to Weisbach. "Ready, Doc?"

"Yes, Colonel, I'm ready."

The doctor cupped John's left elbow in his hand as the stargate blossomed to life. The pilot walked confidently forward, pausing as he sensed the edge of the event horizon. He turned back to where he knew Weir was standing and waved.

OoOoOoOoO

Elizabeth had observed from her normal perch as John bid his team goodbye. She had ordered the gate dialed and watched as Sheppard and the doctor prepared to leave. She propped her elbows on the railing, resting her head on her hands. _Please, God, let this work_. She looked up as her military commander and friend waved to her and stepped through the gate. And with that, he was gone.

-------------

_tbc_

_A/N: So, did he make the choice you thought he would make? What would you have done in his place? Hugs to all of you for the kind reviews. You make me smile._

_The snatch of a tune Rodney overheard is from "Be Thou My Vision", words by Dallan Forgaill._


	9. Who Loves Ya' Baby

**Chapter 9**

His arrival had been expected so once General Landry had officially welcomed him back to Earth, a senior airman took his bag and whisked him and Dr. Weisbach to a waiting car. While the SGC had top medical facilities, the staff was occupied with treating its own wounded. Weisbach had medical privileges at the USAF Academy Hospital since much of his research was used to heal injured soldiers. When they arrived at the small military hospital, John was immediately escorted to a private room.

A very polite-sounding nurse described the room to him, asked if he needed anything, and bid him a good afternoon when he declined. He unzipped his bag, pulling out his cd case and player, his favorite pair of sweats, a toiletry bag, and his dog-eared copy of _War and Peace_. He stowed the rest of his belongings in the wardrobe the nurse had identified. Sheppard carried his sweats and toiletry bag to the bathroom and quickly changed. He neatly folded his black t-shirt and BDUs, placing them inside the wardrobe as well. Climbing onto the bed, he arranged his cds and player on the rolling table and propped his book on the nightstand as a statement of his intentions.

The breathlessness that resulted from the exertion reminded him of how much further he had to go to get back to normal. The melrodin poisoning had really done a number on him. He knew he had at least six weeks before he could return to Atlantis, and he intended to make the most of it, eyesight or not. He was still planning his exercise regimen when he fell asleep.

Sheppard woke to the quiet murmuring of Dr. Weisbach and at least one assistant. John laughed at himself when he realized that the wristband Rodney had given him wouldn't work on Earth.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Colonel Sheppard, you're awake. That's good. We needed to draw some blood for our preliminary testing," said Dr. Weisbach.

Sheppard stuck out an arm and heard the assistant move to begin.

"Ray is going to extract several ampoules." The doctor's tone had changed from quietly conversational to briskly professional. "As I explained, we will inject donor limbal cells. While this is not a transplant, meaning you won't run the risk of rejection or need to take anti-rejection medication, we still must find compatible tissue. We'll run the standard tests: blood type, HLA, crossmatch and antibody screens. My colleague at the Rocky Mountain Lions Eye Bank will review her records to find a match. Once a match is located, we'll begin the procedure. Do you have any questions?"

John had felt the needle slide into a vein as the ophthalmologist had been speaking. The technician removed one vial and attached another as the pilot considered Weisbach's question. Sheppard had lots of questions, but he didn't think any of them would be answerable. Instead, he went with the safest, and most immediate, one.

"How long will it take?"

"The tests will take several hours and finding the right donor several more. You'll be here at least two days before we begin. Once we inject the limbal cells, your body will take over. The amount of time it takes for results to be apparent varies by individual, but we typically know within seventy-two hours if the procedure is successful. If it is, you should fully regain your sight by the end of next week."

"Is there a chance that the recovery will only be partial?"

"There's always a chance, Colonel, but that has been the exception rather than the rule. Out of those that see positive results, ninety percent recover fully."

Ninety percent of sixty percent. He had a better than fifty-fifty chance of seeing again.

"OK, Doc. I'll be right here whenever you're ready."

"I know. Try to rest as much as you can in the next couple of days. The healthier you are the faster the recovery. And, Colonel, I'm a big fan of _War and Peace_. How far into it are you?"

"Around page one twenty I think. I'm planning on reading it during the three week return trip on the Daedalus."

"That sounds like a fine plan, Colonel. I will talk to you tomorrow."

Weisbach and associate exited, leaving Sheppard alone for the first time in a long time. He put on his headphones and let Johnny Cash sing him to sleep.

OoOoOoOoO

John was bored out of his mind. He had walked the halls of the hospital until he thought his legs would fall off. He'd met every other patient there including one that was in a coma. He had thought the guy was just a poor conversationalist until an orderly set him straight. His ears hurt from his headphones, and daytime television was a waste of brain cells. Either he had driven the nursing staff stark, staring mad or one of them had pity on him because there was a knock on his door shortly after lunch.

"Anyone home?"

The voice was familiar, but it took Sheppard a minute to place it.

"Mitchell?"

"Yeah, how are you doing?"

"I'm climbing the walls. How are you?"

Cameron chuckled. "I know exactly what you mean, my friend. I spent a year laid up in here."

"A year! I'm not sure I'm going to last another day."

"You'll make it. I've read some of your mission reports."

The two pilots spent the next few hours swapping stories about flying and leading SG teams. John had met Mitchell when SG-1 had visited earlier that year but hadn't had the time to get to know the man. He found they had quite a bit in common and compared notes on the daily stresses of their jobs. With the SG-1 leader helping as a guide, Sheppard took a walk outside in the fresh air and sunshine.

The smell of dinner greeted him when they returned to his room, a tray already on his table. He felt Cameron grasp his hand, and he returned the handshake warmly.

"Thanks, Mitchell. I appreciate you taking the time today. I know you had plenty of other stuff you could be doing."

"Not a problem, Sheppard. Hang in there. We have a mission in the morning so I won't see you for a few days. But I'll try to catch you at the SGC before you head back."

As the door closed, John kicked off his shoes and dug into dinner. His heavy eyelids convinced him to turn in early so once he was finished, he pushed the tray away and lay down. He was asleep in minutes.

OoOoOoOoO

He awoke with a gasp. He had been dreaming about his father. Strange, really, since he hadn't spoken to the man in over three years, and their last words had not been pleasant. In fact, he hadn't been so much dreaming as he had been reliving the memory of their last conversation.

He and The Colonel had always had a rocky relationship. The Colonel was a retired Marine sniper that was never satisfied with anything less than perfection. His mom had tempered the harshness, but John had learned early on that he could never live up to his father's expectations. He had never wanted anything as much as he'd wanted The Colonel's approval. Knowing he wouldn't get it, he settled for getting his father's attention by becoming the screw-up the older man expected. The relationship seriously degraded after his mother's death.

John had joined the Air Force because he loved flying more than life itself and because he knew it would piss off The Colonel. His father hadn't bothered to attend John's wedding and had stared at him knowingly when the younger man told him of the divorce. For some reason, they continued to get together at Christmas and birthdays, but the tension was thick, and John was always relieved when he escaped.

After Afghanistan, Sheppard had been given two weeks of leave before he had to report to Antarctica. He had been amazed that his actions had only really earned him a slap on the wrist. The black mark of disobeying a direct order had been entered in his file, but he hadn't been tossed into Leavenworth or even demoted. John had requested a transfer to the one continent he hadn't seen yet. He wanted to be as far from people and death as he could get, not to mention the heat and sand that never went away. The position at McMurdo seemed ideal.

He was essentially homeless for two weeks. Having nowhere else to go, he flew to his father's home in northern California. He didn't have a key to the house but wouldn't have used it if he did. He knocked on the door, biting his lip as he waited. He knew The Colonel would have heard about his antics in the desert; Cold War heroes tended to have contacts everywhere. John could see the truth on the man's face as soon as the door opened.

His father stared coldly at him. "What do you want?"

"I'm on leave for two weeks. I came to see you."

The older man's jaw tightened as anger reddened his neck. "Came to see me, did you? You have the nerve to show your face here after what you did?"

The tirade began as The Colonel gave him the dressing down of his life, invading his personal space until their noses touched. John did what he had done since childhood: he stood at attention, eyes straight ahead but unfocused so he couldn't see the disappointment and rage. There was nothing the man could say that could hurt worse than carrying Holland's body the last few miles across the desert to camp.

"….are no longer my son!"

Except that. John flinched at the words and focused on his father's face. He could read the betrayal there as clearly as if it were written on the man's forehead. His actions in Afghanistan had disgraced the family name, an unforgivable sin to The Colonel. They stared at each other for a long minute before John saluted, picked up his bag, turned on his heel and left, the scent of cigars and peppermint following him.

He hadn't seen or spoken to his father since that day. He had considered it, had even traveled back to California before the Atlantis expedition left. He sat in the park across from The Colonel's house and flipped a coin. He knew he should at least say goodbye, but he couldn't make himself do it. He was leaving this galaxy and didn't want to take any reminders with him. The irony, of course, was that he found a very similar man in Marshall Sumner.

The memory of that day lingered in his mind, including the mint and cigar smell. John tried to shake it away and reached hesitantly for his water cup. He took a long drink and closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm his heart. His eyes flew open as the faint cigar odor remained. It just couldn't be. _Please, no, not him, not now._

He closed his eyes and concentrated, reaching out with his senses. The creak of the chair confirmed his worst fears. Since it was too late to pretend to be asleep, he opened his eyes and turned to where the chair had last been.

"Good evening, Sir."

The grunt of surprise elicited a tiny grin from John as he heard his father stand and approach his bed.

"I got a call yesterday from some wet-behind-the-ears Airman informing me that Colonel Sheppard had been blinded and was receiving treatment here. Since I wasn't blind and would never be at an USAF hospital, I had to see whom they meant. What happened to you, Boy?"

The Colonel's tone was neutral, impersonal. John wondered what the man really wanted. He knew he certainly wasn't there out of concern for his health. The Air Force pilot hadn't removed his father's name as next of kin, assuming the man might want to know if he died. John was beginning to question that.

"Nothing important. My doctor says I'll be as good as new in a few days."

"That's not what I meant. How the hell did you make Lieutenant Colonel?"

_So that's what this was about_. His old man's contacts hadn't been able to track him once he entered the Stargate program. That had to eating the retired sniper alive. John felt satisfaction twist in his chest and bit back the smile that was trying to emerge.

"My work is classified, Sir. I'm sure you understand that I can't talk about it. How are you?"

"Is that all you have to say after all this time? No explanation? No apology? No remorse for what you did? You dragged the Sheppard name through the dirt! Don't think one little promotion is going to rectify that."

John swallowed thickly as he formulated a response. He had learned a few things about himself in the past couple of years, things his father would never know and never believe if he found out. The Colonel was the one man from whom John had always backed down, trying to give him the respect he thought a father was due. That ended now.

"I have nothing to apologize for. I'm proud of what I did in Afghanistan; Holland's life was worth the risk to my career. If I had it to do all over again, I would do exactly the same thing."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least," his father ground out in a hard tone. "You have always been a screw-up and always will be. I just can't figure out how you got promoted."

"You have no idea who I am or what I'm capable of," John hissed. "Now, I would like to get some sleep. I'm sure you can find your way out."

"Gladly." The Colonel yanked the door open and stomped from the room.

John shook with the effort of controlling his fury and hurt, amazed that The Colonel still had enough influence over him to injure him. He made a mental note to have his father removed as next of kin in his file. He wasn't sure he could get back to sleep so he slid another cd into the player and tried to clear his mind.

He pushed away the memories of his past and focused on Atlantis and the family he had found there. He wondered what they were up to, imagining Teyla and Ronon sparring and McKay bickering with Zelenka over some unidentifiable piece of equipment in a research lab. Lorne would be sitting impatiently in Weir's office as Elizabeth reviewed the day's schedule while Beckett would be clucking over some unfortunate scientist that had twisted an ankle.

They were an odd group, his family, but he wouldn't trade any of them. He drifted off to the thoughts of home and the strains of Andres Segovia.

OoOoOoOoO

A hand on his arm pulled him from slumber the next morning. He could hear more than one person in the room, and blinked groggily as he attempted to make sense of the noise.

"It's time, Colonel. Are you ready?" Dr. Weisbach asked gently.

"Hell, yes. Can I have a minute first?"

"Of course. My people are setting up the room so take care."

Sheppard eased from the bed and allowed Dr. Weisbach to guide him to the bathroom. Once he finished his morning rituals, he returned, feeling clean and remarkably calm.

"Are you doing this in here?" John hadn't considered that.

"Yes. We will put some drops in your eyes to deaden the pain receptors and then we will clamp them open in order to inject the tissue. We'll be done in no more than thirty minutes."

The pilot reached for the bed and climbed up, suddenly anxious.

"This won't hurt a bit, Colonel."

"I've heard that before."

John could hear the smile in the doctor's voice. "I'm sure you have. Is everything in place?"

Several voices gave confirmation that all was in order.

"Then let's begin. Colonel, I am placing drops in your eyes now. It's fine to blink once they're in."

Sheppard felt the cold liquid as it dropped in each eye. To his amazement, it really didn't hurt. After a few minutes, he felt the clamps attach, and then nothing. He could hear voices and sense movement, but he didn't feel any pain. The gratitude he felt for that was almost overwhelming. The efficiency of the doctor and his staff impressed the lieutenant colonel. True to his word, Weisbach was finished in just over twenty minutes.

"That's all there is to it, Colonel. I'm going to bandage your eyes to protect them. Please, do not touch or rub them for any reason. I am placing some protective eyewear on your face to prevent you from inadvertently doing so in your sleep. I'll be back tomorrow to check your progress. Do you have any questions?"

"Not right now. Thanks, Doc and thank your staff for me."

The ophthalmologist patted John's arm. "I will, son. And you're welcome."

The room quieted as the medical personnel left. The sounds of breakfast being delivered reached his ears, and he sat up eagerly as he waited. He could only imagine what he must look like with his scratchy beard, more-messy-than-usual hair, eyewear that felt big and boxy, and a grin that stretched from ear to ear. No matter how often he had told himself not to get his hopes up, he could feel his heart pounding in anticipation. He didn't know how he was going to make it through the remainder of the day.

By evening, he was back to being stir-crazy. He'd listened to all of his cds at least once and found that prime time television wasn't much better than daytime. A tentative knock at his door interrupted his boredom.

"Come in."

The squeak of highly polished shoes reached his ears.

"What can I do for you, Airman?"

"How did you- Oh, sorry Sir." The young recruit oozed military spit and polish. John could almost hear the boy's spine crack as he drew stiffly to attention.

"At ease. Did you need something?" He heard the young man relax and approach.

"Package for you, Sir. General Landry asked that I bring it right away."

John felt a small box being thrust into his hands. "What's your name?"

"Airman Michael Chu, Sir."

"Thank you, Airman Michael Chu, for bringing this by. Please thank General Landry for me as well."

"Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!"

John could hear the airman's heels click as he snapped to attention. John threw a salute his direction and dismissed him. Once the door closed and the footsteps faded, Sheppard ran his hands over the box until he found an unsealed corner. Tugging firmly, he broke the tape and pulled the flaps open. Reaching inside, he drew out two wooden objects, two metal objects, and something that remarkably resembled his Glock.

He concentrated as his fingers tried to identify each item. He smiled as he realized one of the wooden articles was a chess piece, a queen if he wasn't mistaken. He couldn't quite decipher the other wooden one yet. He touched the metal objects and discovered one of them was an Ancient device. After a minute, he grinned like a fool when he recognized Elizabeth's voice recorder. His team had sent him a care package. Carefully fingering the buttons, he hoped his memory was accurate and pressed the play button. He was rewarded with Weir's voice filling the room.

"Hello, John, it's Elizabeth. I hope this finds you well. Everyone on Atlantis sends their best wishes for a speedy recovery and a quick trip back. We decided you might be a bit bored so we thought we'd send some items to keep you out of trouble.

"Rodney has sent the chess piece. He said to tell you it was the white one so if you forget it, you'll have to play without it when you get back. Ronon has carved a replica of one of the jumpers. Did you know he could do that? It has incredibly intricate detail. Lorne wanted to send his resignation, but I told him he'd have to do that in person when you returned. So he sent you a gun made of licorice. I can't imagine where he got that. The Ancient device is from Zelenka and Teyla. All you have to do is activate it. Radek promises it won't explode or catch fire….."

Her recording continued as she updated him on affairs in Atlantis, keeping him in the loop which was the best gift she could give him. He picked up Ronon's carving as his fingers traced it. He hadn't known the Satedan could carve, and he couldn't wait to be able to see the detail that his touch told him was there.

He laughed at the candy gun. He knew exactly where Lorne had gotten it. Sheppard had given it to him as a secret Santa gift last Christmas. It had taken two Daedalus pilots a month to find it. He gripped the device from Zelenka, wondering what the Czech and Teyla had collaborated on.

"…know that you are missed. I'll see you in a few weeks."

After a minute, a McKay rant began. "Hurry up and get your ass back here. Lorne won't let me go off-world; Zelenka is driving me crazy; and Ronon has already threatened to shoot me twice…."

John laughed as the rant continued. Pure McKay. The Canadian had his own way for keeping Sheppard in the loop, and trust him to be able to get his hands on Weir's recorder.

"…anyway, if you need anything, our next transmission to Earth will be in three days. Oh, and when you come back, could you bring some Hershey bars? See you then."

The message ended with a click. John sat quietly for a moment, relishing the often unfamiliar feelings of love and acceptance from his friends. He placed the precious items back in the box which he placed on the nightstand next to his book. He kept the Ancient device, turning it over in his hands. Unable to determine what it was, he activated it and caught his breath as Teyla's voice filled the room with song.

He knew she could sing. Beckett had told him about the ring ceremony for Charin that he had missed. He had heard her hum occasionally on a mission, but he had never actually heard her sing. She was fantastic. He could hear unknown musical instruments in the background and decided she must have recruited a couple of Athosians to help. The melody was haunting, unfamiliar, and the best thing he'd ever heard.

Focusing on the device, he mentally adjusted it to repeat and sat the metal object on the nightstand as well. He lay back, wriggling a bit until he was comfortable, and listened. After it played through several times, he replayed the recording from Weir and McKay. Then he activated the device again in repeat mode and let it play. As the sounds of home washed over him, he felt the vise on his heart that had appeared with his father melt away.

OoOoOoOoO

Dr. Weisbach returned the next morning as John was finishing breakfast.

"Good morning, Colonel. I'm here to remove the bandages. Do you have a minute?"

"Are you kidding?"

Emil laughed. "I'll take that as a yes. I'll just turn down the lights."

After a moment, John felt the doctor's hands on his face. Weisbach removed the protective eyewear and snipped the bandages, carefully unwrapping them.

"Keep your eyes closed, Colonel, just in case. I will have you open them once I take away the gauze. You may not see anything yet, so don't be alarmed. Ready?"

"Yes," John whispered.

He felt the gauze pull away and a damp cloth brush over his eyes.

"OK, Colonel, open your eyes."

John held his breath as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. He felt like crying as the fuzzy visage of Dr. Emil Weisbach appeared before him.

"Hey, Doc. Good to see you."

--------------------

_tbc_


	10. A Sight for Sore Eyes

**Chapter 10**

"It's good to be seen, young man," Weisbach answered with a delighted grin. "Now, let me take a look at my handiwork."

The ophthalmologist ran John through a series of tests, checking eyesight, peripheral vision, and color blindness. Then he scanned the injection sites for infection and the Bowman's membrane for elasticity.

"Everything looks good, Colonel. The injections are working, but the process isn't complete yet which is why your vision hasn't returned to normal. I hate to say this, almost as much as you're going to hate to hear it, but I need to re-bandage your eyes. I don't want anything to interfere with your healing, and straining to see the entire world all at once would certainly do so."

John groaned at the thought but understood the logic. He'd been blind for a month now; another day or two wouldn't kill him.

He heaved a sigh and said, "Go ahead, Doc." He closed his eyes and felt the gauze and the bandages being reapplied. "How much longer do you think the bandages will need to stay on?

"Based on your current rate of recovery, I think we should be able to remove them for good this time tomorrow."

The pilot smiled in genuine relief. Twenty-four hours until he could start taking his life back.

"I can't thank you enough, sir."

Emil patted John on the shoulder, waiting until his assistant left the room. "No, Colonel Sheppard, it is I who should thank you. I've worked with the Air Force and Stargate Command long enough to know the kind of work that you do, risking your life on a daily basis for a world filled with people that don't realize the dangers you face and probably wouldn't appreciate it if they did. I'm proud to know you, son."

The doctor gave John's arm a gentle squeeze. "I'll see you tomorrow, Colonel."

The lump constricting his throat prevented Sheppard from doing anything more than wave as the doctor left. The pilot had been thanked for his service before but usually in a general way or as part of a group instead of one-on-one with someone who had an inkling of what he actually did.

Touched by the heart-warming words, John decided it was time to get up and on with his day. He pushed the rolling table that held his breakfast tray away from his bed and swung his legs off the bed. Easing himself up, he headed to the bathroom for a shower. He rubbed his face; one more day until the beard came off.

He spent most of the day walking the halls, making a mental list of everything he wanted to see the next day – blue sky, green grass, the carving Ronon had made, the nurse with the sexy voice that checked on him in mid-afternoon. He could feel his heart and lungs getting stronger. Of course, the excitement surging through his veins might also account for that.

He hoped Dr. Weisbach would release him after he removed the bandages. Surely Stargate Command would let him stay at Cheyenne Mountain rather than at the hospital or a hotel while he waited for the Daedalus to return. At least he could keep tabs on things from the SGC and maybe get in some workouts with Mitchell or one of the other guys.

John was sure he'd never get to sleep that night, but as soon as he crawled under the covers he was out like a light.

OoOoOoOoO

"Colonel Sheppard?" An airman emerged from the driver's door of the Ford Explorer and saluted.

"That's right." John sighed as he returned the salute. The Milky Way seemed to follow protocol a little more closely than Pegasus.

"General Landry sent me, Sir. Please allow me to take your bag."

"Thank you, Sergeant, but I've got it."

Sheppard picked up his bag and climbed in the back of the waiting vehicle. Weisbach had proclaimed him ninety-five percent healed and had given him drops that would hasten the other five percent. The world had never looked so good. The pudgy, short nurse with the sexy voice was the most beautiful grandmother he'd ever seen. She had found the number for the SGC, and a quick phone call had assured him a room was waiting and a car was on the way.

The staff sergeant parked and escorted him to a conference room overlooking the stargate. John was surprised to find Mitchell, Colonel Carter, Dr. Jackson, Ms. Mal Doran, and a very large man he assumed was Teal'c meeting with General Landry when he entered.

"Oh, excuse me, Sir. I was told to report here. I didn't mean to interrupt," John apologized.

"Nonsense, Colonel Sheppard. I asked for you to be brought here. I was pleased to hear the treatment was a success," Landry said with a smile as he and SG-1 moved to greet the pilot.

"Me, too, Sir."

Mitchell shook his hand and pounded his shoulder. "Good to see you again, Sheppard."

"It's good to see, Mitchell. Thanks."

"You know Sam, Jackson and Vala. This is the other member of my team, Teal'c."

John grinned at the Jaffa. "I've got a guy on my team named Ronon that I'm going to have to introduce you to one day."

Teal'c gave a slight bow. "I shall look forward to it."

"Yeah, me too."

"We're just about to wrap up this mission briefing and grab some lunch if you'd like to join us," Mitchell offered.

"That would be great," Sheppard replied.

"We'll see you there in about fifteen minutes."

Landry asked an airman to show John to his quarters. They wound through the hallways of Stargate Command until the young man opened the door to a small, Spartan room. After receiving directions to the mess hall, Sheppard sat down on the bed and unpacked his bag. He placed the incredible carving from Ronon, the chess piece and both recording devices on his nightstand, tossed his book on the pillow, put his clothes in a drawer and carried his toiletry items to the bathroom. He ran a hand over his cleanly shaven face, which was already beginning to show stubble and smiled to himself. God, it was good to be able to see.

John wandered to the mess hall and found SG-1 already there. He observed from the entryway for a moment as they laughed at a remark from Carter and began teasing Mitchell about something. Nostalgia washed through him as he watched them interact. He shook off the homesickness as Dr. Jackson waved him over.

OoOoOoOoO

Late that afternoon, Landry summoned Sheppard to the control room.

"You asked to see me, Sir?"

"Thought you might want to be here for this."

Moments later the stargate whooshed to life.

"Stargate Command, this is Atlantis." Weir's voice echoed through the room.

Landry turned to the gate technician. "Open a channel, Walter."

The monitor flickered, and Elizabeth's face appeared. The general stepped in front of the camera.

"We read you, Dr. Weir."

She nodded at someone off screen. "We're sending our weekly databurst now."

The gate technician reported, "Transmission received."

Landry turned back to Weir. "We've got it, Elizabeth. Anything important we need to know immediately."

"No, sir. It's been quiet here the past few days. How is Colonel Sheppard?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself? Colonel?" The general waved John toward the camera and stepped away as the pilot approached.

"Hey, Elizabeth."

Weir's jaw dropped. "John? I, uh, wow, how are you?"

Sheppard grinned. "Good as new. How are things there?"

She smiled back at him. "Much better now." She glanced to her left. "There are a few people that want to say hi."

She backed away as Rodney pushed his way forward with Teyla in front and Ronon behind. The variances in their heights did have certain advantages.

"The voodoo worked?" McKay looked amazed.

"Yes, Rodney, Dr. Weisbach's treatment worked. He says I should recover fully."

Relief was etched on Teyla's face. "That is good to hear, John."

Ronon piped up. "That means you'll be back soon, right?" The expression on the Satedan's face spoke volumes. Rodney must be in rare form.

"I'll be headed home as soon as the Daedalus is ready. Is Rodney causing trouble?"

"Me? Are you kidding? This Neanderthal…."

After a few minutes of a first-class McKay tirade, Landry began glaring.

"I have to go now. I think General Landry wants his stargate back. Take care of everything. I'll be back as soon as I can." He signed off, and the gate shut down.

Mitchell spoke from over his shoulder. "Wow. And I thought Jackson could talk. No wonder you keep that lemon around."

John laughed. "Rodney is… unique. And it turns out he isn't allergic after all. Go figure."

OoOoOoOoO

Life became routine over the next several days. He jogged with Cameron in the mornings and sparred with Teal'c in the afternoons. He got his ass handed to him on a regular basis, every time really, and busted his lip once, but he learned some great moves that he couldn't wait to try on Ronon. He met with Sam several times to discuss the gate bridge she and Rodney were building. Daniel taught an Ancient language class, and John sat in to see if he could learn a few phrases. He was particularly interested in curse words since he and Lorne were competing on who could swear in the most languages.

Vala was a mystery to him. She was beautiful, funny, bright, and self-sufficient, but she came on too strong and continued to throw herself at him even when he turned her down. She was never insulted; she just kept trying. The last woman that had come on this strong had wanted him for his ATA gene, and he'd had to physically push her out of his room after admittedly losing his mind for a moment.

John quickly ran through the times Vala had propositioned him and made a discovery; Daniel had been present each time. Sheppard guessed she had a thing for the archaeologist, and the man's reactions caused the pilot to suspect the attraction was mutual. He asked Mitchell about her during one of their runs.

"What's the deal with Vala? Does she always come on that strong?"

"Believe me, she's toned it down. You should have seen her when she first got here."

"That's toned down?" John asked in disbelief.

"You've got McKay; I've got Vala."

"Damn."

"Exactly. Although the skills she acquired in her previous life come in handy on occasion."

John was afraid to ask what skills Cameron could possibly mean. The look on his face must have given him away because the SG-1 leader began laughing.

"Get your mind out of the gutter. She was a thief and con-artist. She knows every shady low-life in this galaxy."

"Really?"

"Yep. Girl hasn't found a lock she couldn't pick."

"Now that really could be helpful. We always seem to be in a jail cell of some kind."

"Yeah, us too."

"Think she could teach me?"

Mitchell shrugged. "Ask her."

John found Vala sitting alone in the mess hall one afternoon, reading. He decided a public area without Jackson around might be the safest place to approach her.

"May I join you?"

She glanced up in surprise and smiled at him. "Absolutely, Handsome. Draw up a chair."

"What are you reading?"

She picked up the book so he could see the cover.

"You're reading _Les Miserables_. In French."

"Is there something wrong with that? Daniel said it would be better in the original language."

"You speak French?"

"No. But you can find anything on the internet. I took a course online."

"Wow. That's, well, that's really impressive." John really was impressed.

"Thank you. Now, what can I do for you?" she asked suggestively.

"Mitchell tells me that you might be able to teach me how to pick a lock."

"That's the best you can do?"

"What?"

"You don't have to break into my quarters, Handsome. I'll be glad to let you in."

John could feel his ears turning red. "That wasn't a pick up line, Vala. Look, Jackson isn't here for you to make jealous so can you just knock that off?"

She raised her eyebrows and deadpanned, "I have no idea what you mean."

But Vala never propositioned him again. She taught Sheppard how to pick locks and several other devious but useful skills. In return, he activated a small device that had been buried in Daniel's office. It was a child's music box, but it was Ancient and glowed prettily so she was thrilled. After spending time with her, John found her to be a bit of a kindred spirit. She had a past that she was trying to forget and a home with a future that she was fighting to keep, just like him. He was glad he got the chance to get to know her.

OoOoOoOoO

By the time the Daedalus arrived, John felt like a new man. He was relaxed, in good shape, and no longer blind. Best of all, he was going home. Mitchell's team was off-world, but Sheppard had said goodbye before they left.

John had laughed at the control room staff's betting pool on who would come back with what injury. He wondered if the Atlantis staff did the same although Weir's last two reports had been as boring as the first one. Maybe he had to be in Pegasus for trouble to show up.

Caldwell signaled his readiness for departure, and Sheppard gathered his bags, waiting to be beamed aboard. He had two bags now, one with his belongings and one with presents for his friends. General Landry escorted him to the beaming coordinates in the gateroom.

"Godspeed, son."

"Thank you, Sir, for everything."

A brilliant light enveloped him, and he found himself standing on the bridge of the Daedalus.

"Good to see you, Sheppard," Caldwell drawled.

"Yes, Sir. Good to see you again."

"Lt. Crenshaw will show you to your quarters." Steven turned to his navigator. "Take us out."

The officer took Sheppard to his room. John remembered his way mostly, but he asked for directions to the mess and the infirmary as a refresher. Along the way, he felt the ship jump to hyperspace. He was on his way home.

OoOoOoOoO

The three weeks on the Daedalus felt like an eternity. The last time he'd made this journey he'd had Elizabeth and Rodney for company. This time, he exercised with the other pilots, read some of his book, listened to his recordings until he had them memorized, and generally tried to stay out of the way. He also got to know Caldwell a little better. John doubted they would ever be friends, but he gained a new respect for the man during the long trip between galaxies. He couldn't imagine this being his life, cooped up inside a big metal box for weeks at a time.

Sheppard had been following their course and knew when they entered Pegasus. He had haunted Engineering watching the star charts until Hermiod had yelled at him in Asgard and threw him out. After a couple of days, he ventured back in, apologized, and asked the small grey alien to teach him a few words in his language. No way Lorne would know any Asgard curse words. John couldn't read the little guy very well, but he almost looked amused. The Asgard language was extremely difficult to speak, and it took John the rest of the trip to learn to pronounce a handful of words. He wondered what he was really saying and thought he might run the words through Wheelan's translation program before he tried them on Lorne.

John had his belongings packed and in hand when the Daedalus dropped out of hyperspace. He made his way to the bridge to ask permission to disembark. Caldwell gave the order, and Sheppard found himself standing in Atlantis' gateroom surrounded by his team.

"It's about damn time."

"Good to see you too, McKay." John couldn't have stopped grinning if he tried.

After a hug from Weir, an Athosian greeting from Teyla and a back pounding from Ronon, Sheppard made his way to his room to unpack. Elizabeth had informed him of his welcome home party that night, and he dug through his civvies to be sure he had something to wear. When the door chimed, he turned toward it only to remember he was on Atlantis. He thought the door open and found his team loitering in the hall.

"Hey guys. Come in. Just putting my stuff away. What's up?"

The three traded looks, but no one seemed willing to speak first. Finally, Ronon nudged Teyla.

"We came to see if you needed anything."

John scrutinized them. "Have a seat."

Ronon sprawled on the floor while McKay sat at the desk and Teyla chose a corner of the bed.

"I'm fine. Really. I have had more doctors look at me in the past two months than practically the rest of my life combined. The doc at the SGC and the one on the Daedalus gave me a clean bill of health, and I have strict instructions to check in with Beckett as soon as I get settled. OK?"

Emotions flicked over their faces as they looked at each other and back to him.

McKay took on an imperious tone. "Just don't ever do that again. Did you bring the Hershey bars?"

"Sure did." John grabbed the bag and handed the chocolate to Rodney. "And I got popcorn for you, Teyla."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? Thank you." She handled the snack as if it were a precious treasure.

Ronon looked hopeful. "Any Pop-Tarts in there?"

Sheppard laughed. "I think there just might be, Big Guy." He tossed the box to the former runner who tore it open and dug into one.

"Listen, guys. I, um, I wanted to say thanks for all you did for me. And thanks for the package you sent. It was, well, it was the best present I ever got." John could feel his ears getting hot and knew his face was red. "Anyway, I need to go see Beckett. I'll see you at dinner."

His team turned to go. Teyla and Ronon headed their separate ways, but McKay hesitated at the door. "It's good to have you back, John," he said quietly.

John clapped the scientist on the shoulder. "It's good to be back, Rodney."

OoOoOoOoO

On his way to the infirmary, Sheppard overrode the security code on Lorne's quarters and dropped off the fingerpaints he'd bought and returned the candy gun. He dropped by Zelenka's lab to deliver the beer he'd brought him and to thank him for figuring out how to use the recording device.

He then headed to the control room to give Elizabeth her coffee. She wasn't in so he left it on her desk and went by his own office to check the level of disaster. He found Evan sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, staring at a report. The major startled as John knocked on the doorframe.

"Oh, thank God. I mean, good to see you, Sir."

"You too, Evan. How are things?"

The younger man ran his hands through his hair. "Don't take this the wrong way, Sir, but if you ever do that again, I quit."

Sheppard laughed at the expression on Lorne's face. "That bad?"

"This is the paperwork from hell. How do you stay sane?"

"Easy. I ignore most of it."

"Seriously?"

John was tempted to continue stringing him along but decided to have pity on him. "No. It's just a part of command, Evan. I'll admit that it's the least favorite part of my job, but it has to be done."

"Well, then I'm doubly glad you're back. You can have this and Dr. McKay."

"Had fun while I was gone, did you?"

"Let's just say that he owes more than he realizes to Dr. Weir."

"I know exactly what you mean. Well, I've got an appointment with Beckett so I'll see you later."

OoOoOoOoO

Sheppard reached the infirmary to find the Scot pacing anxiously.

"Hi, Carson."

"There you are. I was getting worried."

"No need to worry. I'm fine."

"You let me be the judge of that. Now, up you go."

John perched on one of the beds as Beckett checked his eyes and his vitals and drew some blood.

"Everything looks good, Colonel."

The pilot grinned at him. "Told you."

"Don't you get smart with me. The last time you were here, you were so weak you could hardly stand so forgive me if I want to make sure you're a hundred percent."

"I missed you too, Carson. I brought you something." He handed the man the canister of tea and watched as his eyes rounded in wonder.

"My favorite tea! How did you know?"

"Are you kidding? With as much time as I spend in here?" John sobered. "Thank you for all you did, Carson."

Beckett smiled at him. "Just knowing you're back and fully recovered is thanks enough for me, son."

John hopped off the bed and headed out. "I hear there's a party tonight. See you there, Doc."

OoOoOoOoO

The gateroom had been turned into a banquet hall, and John sat at the head table, drinking in the sights. Music played in the background, and the kitchen staff had gone all out in preparing a feast. The crew from the Daedalus had been invited. Caldwell and Weir were in a deep discussion about Earth politics. Beckett was off in a corner trying not to have an argument with Cadman. Zelenka was attempting to teach Teyla the finer points of the polka which wasn't going well, especially to the strains of Norah Jones. Ronon was arm wrestling any Marine that was willing, and McKay had worked up the nerve to ask Katie Brown to dance.

Contentment flooded John's soul, and he sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. It was good to be home.

------------

_tbc_

_A/N: Thanks again for the kind reviews. One more chapter to go I think._


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Weir asked. "We've already decided to revoke the agreement. There's no reason for you to return."

Sheppard gazed intently at her. "I need to. Besides, I think canceling might be a mistake."

Elizabeth's brows shot upwards. "Are you serious? You can't possibly think we would trade for food treated with the toxins that almost killed you."

John rested a hip on the corner of her desk. "First of all, almost everything we eat has some kind of crazy chemical in it. Have you seen what they put in MREs and power bars?"

"That's not-"

He held up a finger. "Not to mention the preservatives and pesticides used on what we receive from Earth. However, I'm not advocating trading with them for food. I think we should consider helping them come up with better ways to raise crops."

Weir steepled her fingers as she pondered the idea. "I have considered that. We can always use more allies, and we know they will eventually run out of the melrodin compounds anyway. But I'm not sure I'm ready to expose anyone else just yet."

"I don't think we would be in danger. They use the melrodin twice during planting season which has already ended." He jumped to his feet and started pacing. "My team needs to go back, Elizabeth. Teyla needs to restructure the agreement, Rodney needs to finish his research in that lab, and Ronon and I just need to go. We promise not to get near a farm." He leaned both hands on her desk and gave her his best puppy-dog eyes.

She chuckled. "Fine, you have a go. But if you come back with so much as a sniffle…."

He flashed his typical cocky flyboy smirk. "Got it. Thanks."

OoOoOoOoO

"Have you lost what's left of your mind? How can you even think of going back there?" McKay fumed.

"Is your gear ready?"

"Surely you know by now that ignoring me will not make me go away."

Rodney had stormed his way to John's quarters as soon as the pilot had notified his team of the mission. Sheppard stopped searching for his aviator shades and turned to the scientist.

"What do you suggest? That I hide in my quarters every time something bad happens? We started a trade agreement with the Gralans three months ago, and I intend to finish it. Are you telling me you don't want to get your hands on the information in that lab?"

"Not badly enough to risk our lives over it, no."

John crossed his arms over his chest using a palm to prop up his chin and contemplated his friend. McKay's face was white with anger, but there was more to it than that. The blue eyes that blazed with fire also held a bit of fear. Sheppard didn't know much about Rodney's past, but the parts that Jeanie had told only reinforced what the air force colonel had suspected; McKay'd had very few friends as a child or as an adult.

"Look, Rodney, I can't promise that nothing will happen. We have dangerous jobs, and all of us put ourselves in harm's way at some point. But what happened last time was a fluke. Going to Grala is no more dangerous than any other planet we visit when we step through the gate."

The physicist deflated a little and refused to meet his gaze. "I know that. I just prefer to err on the side of caution. You and Ronon almost died there. Why does it have to be us that go back?"

"Because I decided a long time ago not to live my life in fear."

Rodney's head jerked up, and his eyes met Sheppard's. The corner of John's mouth lifted. "Everybody's afraid of something, McKay. But we all have a choice on how we deal with it. I meet mine head on with my team covering my back."

McKay's chin lifted. "Then I guess it's time to go."

OoOoOoOoO

The first thing John saw when he stepped through the gate was the tall trees. He followed their lines upward to the clear blue sky feeling the sun and the breeze vie for his affections. He took a deep, cleansing breath as he turned toward the village, hoping his pounding heart would calm.

"OK, kids, let's go."

Teyla blocked his path. "Are you certain you wish to do this?"

He had never been able to bluff the Athosian. "I need to. I'll be fine."

She regarded him closely and eventually gave him a small smile. "Very well then."

The team made its way to the heart of the village to be met by a flustered but pleased Ren Mikros.

"Colonel Sheppard! We had despaired of ever seeing you again after so long a time. Welcome back to Grala. I understood that you had become ill. I trust that you and Specialist Dex are fully recovered."

"Yes we are, Ren Mikros. I apologize for the delay in our return. We would like to discuss the trade agreement and to continue examining the ruins if we may."

"Why, of course. I look forward to finalizing our negotiations. Please take all the time you need at the Ancestor dwelling."

"Thank you." John turned to his team. "Ronon, you and McKay head back to the lab while Teyla and I talk with Mikros. Check in every hour."

The Satedan gave him a hard stare and then nodded. "Every hour."

Sheppard smiled at his team. "Let's get to work."

_The End._

_A/N: I hope you enjoyed the ride. Thanks to all of you that left reviews. Drop me a line anytime._


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